Whatever I Am, You Made Me
by Valtiel Valentine
Summary: What happens when a man broken by the violent world around him, gets a chance to escape it? Leon Kennedy is battle hardened, world weary and nursing a drinking problem. When nature itself intervenes to throw him a lifeline.. Leon discovers an unsettling truth about his past. Can he ever leave it all behind? Set after Resident Evil: Vendetta
1. The Lightning Strike

**Authors Note:** This will probably be a departure from the usual Resident Evil fanfiction, while we will get to the horror and things you come to expect from the Resident Evil universe, my writing always takes things to a more human place. This story will deal with the aftermath of intense trauma, how humans cope with the things they've been through, as well as other possibly upsetting themes. If you prefer your stories heavier on the horror and deeply rooted in the Resident Evil universe, this might not be for you. But hopefully you'll give it a chance, and enjoy!

For visuals, this original character - Ana - would have a pic base of Kate Beckinsale.

As slow burn as this story is, I have huge plans for it and you can expect to see many of your Resident Evil favorites appear. These events take place a handful of years after the events of Resident Evil 6 and Resident Evil: Vendetta.

* * *

 **"When I was a kid, I used to think about what kind of man I'd grow up to be. I never thought my life would turn out this way."**

 **\- Leon Kennedy, "Resident Evil: Vendetta"**

* * *

She hadn't always been a country girl. Montana held her roots, it was her birth place and where she grew up, but the second she'd had the chance to escape what she saw as a boring and very small existence she'd taken it. Packing her bag and heading for the bright lights and the big cities. In her short time on earth, Ana Ashmore had travelled much of the country. A nomad, never putting down roots, never staying in one place for too long. She'd seen Los Angeles and New York, New Orleans and Dallas. Wherever there was a big city full of opportunity, she'd taken it. Working wherever she could get work, she'd tended bars, been a dental assistant, helped out at shelters and had even been a dancer here and there. Not ballet, mind you. She didn't have the dedication or probably even talent for that kind of dancing, but she did have a naturally slender figure, blessed with long legs and a head of dark hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. No, the dancing she'd done hadn't been her proudest moments, but it had paid her way and she was very much of the mindset that if you had an asset at your disposal, you should use it.

She tried not to pay too much attention to big wide world. She didn't own a TV and from what she saw on televisions in bars and such, all she was missing was a terribly bad time. Some time, over the last 8 or so years, some really weird shit had started happening. You couldn't not notice it, what started out as rumors and scary stories seemed to creep ever closer to home. The world had become a place of strange outbreaks, of watching who you talked to and choosing your routes more carefully. The dead coming back to life and roaming the earth? Were they living in a horror movie? For the longest time she'd refused to buy these stories, thinking it was propaganda, some government conspiracy to get people to pay more taxes or something. But the stories never went away, the people on the news never stopped telling them. From time to time she'd meet someone that had had an experience with it first hand.. so they said. She'd listen to what they had to say and hope with everything she was that they were talking nonsense. She'd heard about Raccoon City, the old man that lived opposite her at the time assured her it was just the Russians. But in an age of social media and gossip spreading faster than plague, she wasn't sure.

Until one day, as she walked to a subway in New York after dark and came across a man eating a dog. She'd stood, frozen, unable to comprehend what she was seeing until the pale, stone eyed figure had turned his attention to her. "Sir, are you okay?" she'd asked in a nervous and hopeful voice. He wasn't okay. He'd lunged at her, teeth and clawed hands making a play for her flesh. She'd never screamed in her life, but she did that night. Before she knew it, she was on her back and the snapping, stinking creature tried to bite. She'd held him back, somehow, screaming for all she was worth. Only by the grace of God, or whoever, was she able to keep him at bay long enough for two passing guys to tear the rotting corpse from her. They'd yelled, called him a drunk, and then it had attacked them too. One of the men was bitten, and she'd watched in horror at the shower of blood that poured from his neck. Then as quickly as it began, two gunshots rang out and the walking dead hit the pavement, finally really dead.

It was a blur, men in uniform surrounding them. One of them helping her up and asking her lots of questions. She was taken to a truck and she was examined by a medic, it had all kind of happened around her, so dazed and shellshocked by the series of events. She didn't know what happened to the other two men, but she did hear one more gunshot. It had shaken her to her core. She'd thrown up, and while the medic had given her water and clean bill of health, she overheard words like 'Contained' and 'Outbreak'. She was told the man was sick and a wanted criminal and she should go home and try to just carry on, though she was given a number to call if she felt traumatized. Traumatized? That was a word for it.

The next day she'd packed up the few things she'd owned and she returned to Montana, to silence and solitude of her parents ranch in the mountains. Away from cities, away from people, away from outbreaks and monsters.

As it turned out, her return home couldn't have been better timed, as her ailing parents had let the ranch run in to a state of disrepair. She set to fixing it, she became pretty handy with a hammer and nails. Swapping dancing in a G String for repairing fences and brandishing a power drill in some figure covering overalls. There were no bright lights out here, but there were no monsters either. That year, her father passed away in his sleep. Old age and a lifetime of working in fields getting the better of him, leaving just her and her ailing Mother. They'd buried him under a tree down by the river, just her and her Mom. Peaceful, like death was supposed to be. The memory of what had happened in New York never went away, it woke her up at nights in a cold sweat. But she tried to forget. She tried really hard. Up there in the mountains they were cut off from the world, no TV, no signal on a phone. Who knows what was going on in those big cities, if she lived out her life never knowing she'd be just fine with that. But you know how life never lets you forget.

It was storm season and the thunder rumbled through the night, lighting up her bedroom in intervals. She was used to it, she slept through it for the most part. But a particularly loud crash had her sit bolt upright in bed, her long deep mahogany hair clinging to her neck and chest. Nightmare? She couldn't remember, but the boom of thunder had been so loud it had shaken the house. Her room lights up with another blinding flash and she pulls the covers back, freeing her legs and slipping out of bed. Her bare feet hitting the wooden floor, she tucks the curtain back and peers outside as another flash lights up the fields and mountains beyond. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, she was thirsty and she grabs her robe, creeping out of her room and briefly checking in on her bed bound mother before heading downstairs. She gets a pitcher of water from the fridge and pours a glass, listening to the rain hit the windows as she gazes out of them. A little shiver runs down her spine and she shakes it off, putting the glass in the sink and moving to head back upstairs, she flicks out the light and as she does, something catches her eye out of the window in the back door.

Hesitating, she steps back to get a better look. A different kind of light was flickering in the night. Not lightning, but the golden glow of fire. She couldn't see what was burning, just the dancing glow lighting up the brow of the hill. Her hands fumble with the lock and she pulls open the door, stepping onto the porch and wrapping her arms around herself to brace against the cold wind. She narrows her eyes, looking closer, then a strike of lightning lights up the sky and she sees the outline of what looked like a mast of some kind. A mast? Her mind races, and it hits her as suddenly as the rolling thunder. That was the tail of a helicopter.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaims, rushing forward then remembering she was barefoot and in a nightie. She quickly turns, running back into the house she grabs a flashlight, pulls on some boots and a jacket over her nightie, then she bolts out into the night. Rain batters her and her torch and the lightning guide her way. She runs down to the fence and climbs it, sprinting as best she can in boots in the mud. Down to the river, then up to the crest of the hill. When she reaches it's top and looks down, her heart begins to beat faster. The helicopter was a mangled mess, broken in half just about. Fire still raging despite the rain. For a moment she didn't know what to do, just searching the wreckage with her flash light from afar. There had to be people, at the very least a pilot. "Hello?!" she calls down to whoever might be there. Who was going to answer?

Biting the bullet, she makes her way down. The heat from the fire was incredible, even from several feet away she could feel it searing her skin. Thunder rolled overhead and lighting lit up the scene the closer she got to it. She could see the outline of a human being in the pilots seat, but he was shrouded in flame. Long gone from this world. She bends double, feeling like the air was knocked out of her, tears stinging her eyes. That poor person. "Hello?" she calls again once she's gotten her bearings, "does anybody need help?" she doesn't know what else to say. Making her way around the side of the wreckage, she spots another body, this one had a shard of metal sticking from his gut. She creeps closer, crouching beside him, she presses her fingers to his neck. Nothing. Blood pooled in the water and grass under them, he'd bled out. Hopefully it was quick. She gazes at the body in sympathy, offering up a prayer to.. whoever. Picking herself up, she discovers two more bodies on the other side, both of them still in the main chamber of the helicopter, both of them with terrible injuries sustained in the crash. She wipes tears from her eyes, though mixed with the droplets of rain it was hard to tell what was what. She sits, in the mud, staring at the scene in front of her. It only then really occurs to her what they're wearing. Military? It didn't look like typical military wear, not that she was an expert. But they were definitely dressed for a fight. She swipes her hand under her nose and pushes herself up, getting a closer look. They had emblems on their bullet proof vests but she didn't know what the letters meant. And they had knives strapped to them.

And guns.

She's searching for some kind of ID when a groaning sound reaches her ears through the din of thunder. For a moment her heart stops, New York flashing back into her mind. Was it one of those.. things? She whips her torch around, searching for the source of the noise. Then she spots him, face down a good few feet from the wreckage, slightly obscured by the trunk of a tree. She makes her way cautiously over, he wasn't wearing what the others were wearing. He had on a leather jacket with stripes on the arms and what looked like jeans or dark utility pants. But there was a holster strapped around his leg and hip, and dirty blonde hair soaked through and obscured his face. There was blood pooling in the mud from a wound to his head. "Sir?" she asks, crouching down, still wary. She reaches out and puts her fingers to his neck, feeling a pulse. Not strong, but there. Placing her torch down she tucks his hair back, examining the wound, then checking him over for others. There was a tear in his jeans on his thigh and a shard of metal protruding. She had to rouse him, it was the only shot she had at getting him back to the house.

With that in mind, she begins talking to him, asking him his name and where he's from. Gently tapping his cheek. She uses every ounce of strength she has to turn him onto his back, he was a big guy, and once she has him on his back she finds nothing but a plain shirt and more holsters. He was armed to the teeth. A knife, another large looking gun. She's running a hand over his stomach to check for wounds when his hand suddenly snaps up and grabs her wrist, making her jump and yelp.

He doesn't speak, just groans. But his eyes are open and blinking against the rain. "I'm just trying to help you, you were in an accident.." she says above the din of the storm. "Can you move?" He doesn't respond, knocked for a loop quite clearly. "My house is over that hill, if you can move, we can get you dry and.. get that fixed up." She glances at his leg. He closes his eyes, tightly. His hand releasing her wrist at last, he had a hell of a grip. She pulls her hand back and nurses it for a moment, "please, we have to get you out of this cold, or hypothermias going to kill you before infection does."

Infection. That word seems to bring him around. His eyes open again and he really focuses on her.

"I am too old for this shit." he rumbles as low as the thunder. He didn't look that old, but then, it was dark.

"Ten minutes.. that way.." she points to the brow of the hill, "if you can walk."

He grunts in response, turning on to his stomach. She pulls back, getting to her feet, offering him a hand that he doesn't take as he hauls himself up. He nearly topples as soon as he tries to put any weight on that leg, and shes swift to his side, propping him up. He growls, reaching for the metal shard and trying to pull it out. She stops him. "You could bleed to death! You don't know if thats gone through an artery.. lets get back to the house. I have things there." Again he grunts, but he seems to accept the plan.

What should have been a few minutes, took them almost an hour. Limping inch by inch back to her house. When they get through the door, she helps him to a chair in the kitchen and sheds her soaking wet coat and boots. Leaving her just in her sodden nightie. If he was more alert, she might be more concerned about the fact it was practically see through and clinging to her body, but he wasn't. She gets him water and a towel. Helping him shed the leather jacket and unbuckle the holsters, they end up with a pile of leather and guns on the kitchen table. "Real one man army, huh?" she murmurs as she dabs the wound to his forehead with a clean cloth. He doesn't answer. She might consider him rude if it wasn't for the fact he'd just been in a helicopter crash that had killed everybody he was travelling with. "Do you remember what happened?" she asks quietly, getting his forehead and face cleaned up, she rummages through her quite substantial farmers medical kit, finding something to bandage him with.

"Lightning.." he says gruffly, "lightning hit us." It was all the answer he was giving and all she was pressing for, for now. She nods, fixing a bandage around his head, then going to a drawer and fetching scissors. "The fucks that for?"

"Your jeans." She answers flatly, "I need to get above that shard to tourniquet, and we can pull it out."

He looks displeased, but lets her do it. It doesn't take long to slice through the material and to get a good look at the metal protruding through his skin. She gets up again, heading to a small room to the side of the kitchen, she returns holding one of her fathers belts. Fixing it around the top of his thigh.

"Now, I just need something to grab that with.." she sighs, looking around for inspiration. Then he suddenly grabs the shard with his leather gloved hand and yanks it right from his thigh. She lets out a yelp, covering her mouth with her hands. "Jesus!"

"You got any whiskey?"

She blinks, stammering, then hurrying to her feet and grabbing a bottle from the cupboard. She hands it to him and he takes a long.. long drink. Then pours some on the wound. He hisses and growls as he does, then drinks some more. She watches with her arms folded around herself, who was this insane person in her kitchen?

"I.. uh.. do you want me to stitch it?"

"You can do that?"

"I can.. I mean.. I've stitched the cows."

He chuckles, and gestures to the wound as if to say 'be my guest'. She nods and gets the kit out of the medical supplies. As she works, he drinks. Once she has the needle threaded, she kneels beside his thigh, looking up at him.

"I don't have anything to numb it."

"I'll live."

"You want something to bite on?"

"This'll do just fine," he waves the bottle.

"Okay.. well, tell me if you want me to stop."

"Just do it."

She nods and, biting her lip, begins her task. He doesn't flinch. Was he even human? Stupid question.

"So, you got a name?" she asks around the half way point with the wound.

"Do you?"

"I asked first."

"I'm the guy with the badge."

"You're a cop?" she glances up at him. He laughs.

"Not today."

"Ana.. my names Ana." she looks back to the stitches, working slowly, making them neat.

"Ana huh.." he sighs, taking a swig from the bottle, "another fuckin A name."

"What?" she frowns.

"Nothing... Ada, Ashley, Angela.. I meet a lot of women with A names."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what to make of him, already bragging about conquests was kinda skeezy.

"Work.. not.. well.."

"Oh." She says again.

"Ana short for something?"

"Annalise." she replies, getting another stitch done then looking up at him, "what about you, you gonna tell me your name or do I just have a nameless man bleeding all over my kitchen floor?"

He smirks. "Leon."

"Like the professional hitman from that movie?" she muses.

He looks momentarily amused. "Kinda. Except I don't usually take out people."

She swallows, glancing at the pile of guns and knives.

"I take out monsters." he adds quietly, punctuating it with a swig from the bottle.

She looks up at him curiously, then ties the final stitch. "All done.. Leon." she says softly.

He looks down at the stitched up wound, seemingly impressed. As she gets up to go wash off her hands, he peels off his sodden t shirt and gets to his feet, testing out his leg. "Usually I have to let this shit heal on its own."

She glances back at him, drying her hands.

"You get impaled a lot huh?" she laughs, then notices the long scar running along his abdomen, like something had tried to slice him in half once. And another on his chest, and ribs. He drains the last of the bottle.

"Just another day at the office."

"Well.. before you get back to getting impaled at the office, can I offer you a hot shower and somewhere to sleep off that whole bottle of whiskey?" she gestures.

The look he gives her makes something inside her do a little flip flop. He looked so.. weary. "My fathers clothes should fit you too, if you want something.. dry. And y'know, with two legs." she adds with a chuckle.

"That sounds good.. thankyou." his gruff exterior crumbles for a moment as he drags a hand through his fluffy, drying hair. He seemed like a man that had seen way too much.

"C'mon." she gestures, leading him up stairs which is a slow process, his leg clearly giving him more trouble than he wanted to let on. But that was okay, they take it slow and when they reach the upstairs she shows him to her fathers old room. Full of hunting and farming things. Clothes. A bed. They lived simple lives out here, self sufficient for the most part. She wasn't even sure her fathers old truck even started anymore. "Bathrooms across the hall." She gestures, standing in the doorway and leaning slightly against the frame.

"Your fathers not here?" He asks absently, perching on the edge of the bed and rubbing his shoulder, a bruise was starting to form over a large area and she was a little worried his injuries were more extensive than just the leg and gash to his head. At the question, she bows her head for a moment, arms folding across her chest as though guarding herself from the still raw nerve that was losing her daddy.

"He passed away, a little while ago," she says quietly. He sighs, bowing his head too.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay.." she stops herself from saying more. Why would she open up to a guy she just met? A guy that just crashed a helicopter into one of her fields. "My bedrooms down the hall, and next door is my Mom.." she motions, "shes pretty much bed bound and fairly deaf, but still.. should probably warn you she's there."

He nods.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Do you have a phone?" he asks. Her eyebrows shoot up, of course he'd want to contact someone. A whole squad of people dead, he probably had family, a wife.

"I.. uh... don't actually." She says awkwardly and he looks at her like shes from another planet. "No signal out here, and it's too far into the mountains for a land line. The nearest one would be..." she puffs her cheeks, "about 25 miles away, Lazy J motel is pretty much our nearest neighbor unless you head for real civilization."

"Jesus.." he mutters, glancing around himself like he just realized he was living in the dark ages.

"In the morning I can try and get my fathers truck started, we can drive out there. I should have thought of that earlier, you must have people concerned."

"For me? Not really.." he murmurs, "but I do need to report back to my superior, let them know what happened." He looks back to her, "nobody else made it huh?"

"I checked them all.." she shakes her head, "I'm sorry. They were your friends?"

"I only met them today," he replies quietly, "hazard of the job, people come in and out of your life so fast you barely get a chance to remember their names."

She wanted to ask him what he did, why he was in a different uniform – or not even a uniform. The thought crossed her mind that maybe he was a prisoner, but they wouldn't have had a prisoner armed to the teeth.

He groans, rubbing his head, and she draws in a breath. "Ill let you get some rest.. if you need anything that isn't a phone, I'm down the hall."

"Thanks."

With that, she turns her back on this man that fell from the sky and returns to her own bedroom. Realizing only once she's closed that door that her white nightie was made see through by the rain and now she was drying out she looked a hot mess.


	2. Salvage

**"Hey, Chris..** **How much longer can we keep going on like this?"**

 **\- Leon Kennedy, "Resident Evil: Vendetta"**

* * *

She doesn't sleep much the rest of the night, adrenaline still racing. But by dawn the thunder storm has passed and the sun peaks over the brow of the mountains. She gets herself up and showered, still had a ranch to run. Heading down to the kitchen she cleans up after the nights dramatics. Mopping up blood, putting away the medical kit. His pile of weapons sit untouched on the kitchen table and for a while she considers moving them, but then worries it might upset him if he came down while she was tending to the animals. She picks up his leather jacket from the floor. Heavy. Glancing toward the stairs, she conducts her own little investigation. Finding an inner pocket, she pulls out a phone. One of those super high tech, almost futuristic ones you saw in movies. Who was this guy? It was dead, which was why he'd asked her if she had one, obviously. Two other things in that pocket. A lighter, and some kind of security card. There was nothing to say what it was for, just his name.

Leon S Kennedy. And a serial number.

Biting her lip, she puts the things back in the pocket and carefully zips it, then hangs the jacket from the coat rack near the stairs. Kitchen cleaned, she pulls on boots over her jeans and ties her hair back into a scruffy knot. Her fathers hat on her head, she heads out to tend to the farm. Out to the barn to let out the chickens and ducks and feed the three horses, then delivering food to the pigs and cows. It takes her a couple of hours and she expects to find him awake when she returns to the house, but all is quiet.

She makes breakfast for her Mom and takes it up to her on a tray, she'd tell her about the events of last night when she'd had a moment to process it all herself. Once she's happy her Mom's happy, she heads down the hall to her fathers room, pausing outside to listen in. Quiet. She's suddenly a little worried he'd died in his sleep. Concussion could do that, right? She shouldn't have left him. Lifting her hand she knocks lightly on the door, then lets herself in.

There he was, on his side on the bed, a sheet barely covering his modesty and a sunbeam warming his torso. His shoulder was now a nasty shade of purple and a little blood showed through on the bandage covering his stitched up leg wound. How old was he? Late 30's maybe? Early 40's even? Possibly even older. His body told a tale. A really violent one. Mottled with scars that as she drew closer she could make out in more detail. Some looked like gun shots, she'd seen those in the short time she'd been a doctors secretary in Chicago. Some looked like knife wounds.. or maybe even claw marks. He said he hunted monsters, did he mean animals? Or..

"Leon?" she says softly as she reaches the edge of the bed. Was he breathing? She timidly reaches out a hand to take his pulse and as her fingers near his neck his hand snaps up, grabbing her wrist in much the same way as he had last night, and its just as shocking. She yelps, meeting his piercing gaze, her mouth drops open. "I'm sorry, I was worried you.. you weren't okay."

It takes him a minute, like he's processing, then he lifts his head, looking around before back to her and then groaning, releasing her wrist and apologizing as he rolls onto his back.

"Its okay.. you have really incredible reflexes."

"I have a really incredible hangover."

"Oh.. I can get you some coffee."

"Do you have more whiskey?"

"Do you think thats wise?"

"I think thats the best idea I ever had."

Oh goodie, a drunk. "I don't know if theres any more, I think you had the last of it last night."

"Who lives in the middle of nowhere and doesn't keep a whole stash of alcohol?"

"People that aren't drunks."

He shoots her a look and its enough to make her take a step back, like the look in his eyes had physically shoved her. "Look, thanks for taking me in and all but I don't need lectures."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean.. I just.." she stammers, "my father died because he drank too much. He wasnt a mean drunk, he was a good man. The best man I know. But he drank to help pain from working the ranch his whole life. And it killed him." She explains quietly, "I guess it's just a sensitive subject."

Leon's shoulders sag and he rubs his hand over his forehead, "now I feel like an asshole."

"Let me make you some breakfast," she changes the subject, "we can go from there."

"I need to go to the crash site, need to see what I can salvage. And.. take care of the bodies."

She blinks, he seemed so matter-of-fact. Like dead people were just a daily occurrence to him. "Right.. well, I can show you." She didn't want to see that again, but he was right. They couldn't just be left there, a few hours baking in the sun and they'd be able to smell it from the house anyway.

"And I'll take a look at your truck, too." He says gruffly, "I need to get to a phone. I'm gonna assume a chick that doesn't have a phone isn't going to have a phone charger."

"Afraid not."

"You got a TV?"

"Nope."

He narrows his eyes at her, "you ever left this farm?"

"Yes, I came back to it because the world out there is..." she trails off. "Here its like it's own little island. Nobody can get you. Except for strange men that crash helicopters into your fields."

He smirks, "you're right, the world out there is.." he makes a face, "maybe I shouldn't be in a hurry to get back to it. Maybe that lighting bolt was a gift from above." he chuckles and flops back again, idly scratching his stomach.

"Maybe. It looks like you've seen your share of horrors."

"My share, and everybody elses." He mutters. His expression takes on a kind of haunted look, it chills something inside her.

"Monster assassin.." she murmurs. He glances at her.

"Thats the most accurate description I've ever heard." He says thoughtfully.

"What does that mean, you like.. hunt criminals? Bounty hunter?"

"Its.. it's a really long story." He sighs, "if you don't know whats out there, I can't even begin to explain."

"Whats out there? Like.. worse than criminals."

"Worse than everything."

"Like those stories on the news?" she almost whispers it, "outbreaks.."

He closes his eyes.

"You work for the government?"

"This is where I tell you its classified."

"Oh my God.. thats where I've seen that uniform before.." she breathes, the realization suddenly hitting her like a sack of bricks. "The people in the helicopter. They.. there were men with the same uniform in New York."

"New York..?" he seems to grit his teeth.

"I.. when I lived there, I never used to believe the stories, I thought It was all propaganda, to scare us in to paying taxes or whatever. Until one night.. this guy attacked me. He tried to bite me. These other two guys saved me but he bit one of them.. there was so much blood. Then these guys in this like, SWAT gear turned up and shot him. And they took me to a truck full of fancy equipment and asked me a thousand questions..." she trails off. He looked pale, like he was going to throw up. "Are you okay?"

He's quiet for a moment, staring off to some vacant point in the room.

"Leon?"

"I need some clothes."

She blinks, gesturing to the wardrobe, "my fathers things should fit you. I'll.. I'll go get breakfast."

Leaving him to get himself up and dressed, she heads back to the kitchen and as she pulls together some things to feed him, she replays their conversation over in her mind. His reaction to her story, the way the color had drained from his face and a kind of familiarity had settled in to his expression. It was haunting. If he was a regular cop he would have had some kind of badge on him, the lack of ID on his person suggested something much more secretive. He said he was like an assassin, so cryptic, and that whatever he did was classified. It made her equal parts curious and dubious. Who had she invited in to her home? He had to be a good man, right?

The sound of a heavy boot on the wooden stairs draws her out from her thoughts as she flips bacon in a pan, she looks over her shoulder to see him reach the bottom stair and look around, taking in his surroundings. He'd dressed in a pair of her fathers black jeans, a tear in one knee, weather worn from years of working on the ranch. A black, button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his combat boots rounding it off. He looked good, in a rugged, war torn kind of way. That much was undeniable, a handsome stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

"You found something that worked?" she asks cheerily, fetching a plate from a stack.

"Yeah, thanks," limping toward the kitchen table she'd stitched him up at last night, he casts her a gentle smile. Its comforting, he was capable of a kind of softness at least. Quietly, she plates up some eggs and toast and bacon for him, bringing it over and setting it down in front of him.

"Damn, I haven't eaten breakfast in weeks." He claims as he looks it over, she lifts an eyebrow in response.

"Do they not feed you in the army?"

"I'm not in the army." He answers, picking up a fork and starting on his meal. She frowns and draws in a breath, returning to the stove and beginning to clear up.

"You don't give much away, do you.." she remarks, taking the pan to the sink to clean it out. He looks up from his food, that gentle smile back on his face.

"In my line of work the less people know about you the better."

"And what is your line of work?"

He chuckles, stabbing a chunk of egg. "I told you thats classified."

She purses her lips but decides not to press, she obviously wasn't getting answers and the chances were he'd sail off into the sunset at some point today, an eternal mystery. He'd have people coming to look for him, someone had to know what happened.

As he finishes his breakfast they move to more idle conversation, discussing his injuries and what he planned to do with the day. They needed to visit the crash site and see what he could recover, he had a slim hope that maybe the radio would still be in tact and he could reach someone. She gives up asking questions and instead sticks to answering his, though he doesn't seem too interested in her as a person. All business, but what else should she expect from a government secret assassin? Still, he had a kindly nature about him, something that made her feel comfortable and at ease, unusual for someone she'd only just met. He straps his holsters back on as though he expects to encounter an army outside, and that leather jacket covers his shoulders and hides away all evidence that he's wearing them. Once outside, the smoke from the wreckage is visible over the brow of the hill. The ground still damp from last nights torrential rain, though the sun was already making it ridiculously humid and the trudge across the fields has her breaking a sweat. They reach the brow of the hill and he pauses for a time, surveying the crash site with a grim look on his face. Truth told, she wasn't too keen on seeing the bodies again herself, especially not in this sun.

He heads down there first and she follows more timidly after him, it's like a switch flips in his brain and the grim expression becomes one of focus and determination. She watches with her arms around herself as he yanks open the front pilots door, the metal charred, the body inside unrecognizable. He leans over it like it's nothing, like he'd seen a thousand of them before and it didn't move anything inside him. It's hard to stomach, but he rummages and eventually declares the cockpit useless. The radio busted, nothing working. Then he peels the human body from the seat its melted in to and she gags, doubling over and turning away. It takes her a while to look back, and when she does he's somehow managed to move the four bodies in to a row at the foot of the wreckage. She puffs her cheeks out, sweeping a hand through her hair she finally takes the extra steps down to the crash site. "Is there anything I can do?" she asks, trying not to look at the bodies. Leon was leaning in to the body of the helicopter and as she asks that, he pulls back and turns around to face her, holding two very large guns. She had no idea what they were, but they looked like they belonged on a battlefield, not a farmers field in Montana.

"Hold these"

"Oh.." she takes them gingerly, were they loaded? Was she about to blow her foot off? He climbs into the wreck and she stands there holding the guns beside the four bodies and for a while she considers the turn her life has taken. She came out here to get away from the horror out there, and now it had landed on her doorstep. Though at least these dead people weren't trying to bite her.

Leon emerges with a few more things, a shotgun, a holster, knives and metal box of some kind.

"You got a shovel?"

"A.. shovel? Yes.. why?"

"To bury these guys."

"Here? Wont their families want the.. the bodies back?" she stammers, clinging to her guns.

"Leave them in the sun they'll be bird food and they'll stink to holy hell, we get em in the ground, someone can come for them later." He explains. "Lets take this back to the house, get the shovel.. take care of this. Then I'll look at that truck." He was all business, and all she can do is follow as he marches them back to the house. Her kitchen table was beginning to look like a military stronghold. He opens up the metal briefcase he'd salvaged and inside she spots documents, files, and a really big shiny hand gun. Different from his others, it looked almost old fashioned. He seems to check on a few things and then they're on the move again, collecting two shovels from the barn and heading back to the crash site. The last grave she'd dug had been her fathers, and he seems to notice the somber turn her mood takes as they dig a trench to put the bodies in. Its back breaking work, and he asks her if she needs a break. She refuses, after all, he was digging with a stitched up leg and a black and blue shoulder in this blistering heat. If he could, so could she.

It takes a handful of hours, and its a shallow grave at best, but eventually they're shoveling dirt back on top of the bodies until the pits full. She swipes a hand over her sweat soaked forehead and looks down at the grave, leaning on the handle of her shovel. "Should we say something?"

"Like what?" he asks in a weary voice.

"I don't know, you knew them better than me."

"I barely knew them at all." He sounded exhausted, and she glances at him with a little concern. His skin had taken on an a pale, almost ash grey hue. He was sweating profusely which despite the heat and the work, seemed like more than he should be. His hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Could use a drink." he mutters.

She looks back to the grave and bites her lip, offering up a prayer in her head to whoever was listening, that these poor souls would find peace in whatever was beyond. With that done, she picks up her shovel and they begin a trudge back to the house. He's utterly silent, limping badly. The walk takes longer than normal and as they reach the wooden steps to the porch, he pauses, leaning against the wooden rail for a moment. She watches him, her brow furrowed but not wanting to bug him with constantly asking if he was alright. Eventually he hauls himself up the last few steps, takes three steps into her kitchen, and passes out with a heavy thud on the floor.


	3. In Sickness and In Hell

**"You know the bomb that went off in D.C? Well it was my mission.. to stop the terrorists. We got to our rendezvous point and some asshole ratted us out. The bomb went off and everyone on Metro SWAT, my whole unit, gone. I keep fighting, and fighting, and fighting and instead of seeing an end to this shit it just keeps getting worse."**

 **\- Leon Kennedy, "Resident Evil: Vendetta"**

* * *

Five days. It took five, long, very stressful days for his fever to break. When Leon had hit the floor in her kitchen she felt the same kind of helpless horror she'd felt when her Father hadn't responded that dreadful morning. Wanting to cry out for help, cry out for someone to tell her what to do but as always, there was nobody. That was the price you paid for solitude and not having to deal with the rest of the worlds crap, sometimes you had to face things entirely alone. And alone she'd faced it, managing somehow to haul his heavy ass to the couch in her family room, years of wrangling cattle gave her an advantage of sorts, but still, shifting the dead weight of a full grown man was no easy task for a smaller woman. She'd stripped him down, opened a window to let in the air and hopefully cool him down. Using a thermometer that might have been used on the sheep once, she'd taken his temperature and while she wasn't a doctor she knew he was critical. She'd removed the bandages from his leg wound and the smell of infection had been unmistakable, despite her best efforts the metal shard that had buried itself in his thigh had left behind bacteria that threatened his life. Monster Assassin, she wasn't going to let him get taken out by some stupid fucking infection.

She'd reopened the wound and flushed it out with twice boiled water and rubbing alcohol, he'd groaned and stirred but remained unconscious. Grabbing books from her Fathers study she'd poured over medical advice both human and animal. They had everything, antibiotics on the farm for when one of the cattle took ill. She'd read weights, doses, measurements.. and she'd done her best. Her best guess, and shot him up with what she hoped would kill the bacteria.

Dutifully she'd guarded him, sponging him down with cool water, doing all she could to bring that raging temperature down. In his brief, lucid moments she'd forced water down his throat, keeping him hydrated. She'd eaten, even slept by his side. This man that fell from the sky and crashed in to her life, she couldn't let him down.

Leaving him only to tend to her Mother and to the Ranch, the rest of her time was spent administering further doses of medicine, cleaning and flushing out his wound and keeping him cool. In that time, he revealed more to her about himself than he did while he was conscious. He talked in his delirium, names muttered in a breath. On the first night he'd called out desperately for Ashley, she'd quietly asked him who Ashley was and he'd groaned and told her he had to save her, while stroking a damp cloth over his brow he'd panted and made noises like a man in the middle of a fight for his life, which undoubtedly that first night, he was. He was reliving something, he shoved her away quite violently with one arm, powerful. She'd hit the coffee table and taken a moment to gather herself, then wrung out the cloth with fresh cool water and returned to her charge. Speaking to him softly, asking him about Ashley. The word 'Daughter' made her heart do that thing where you felt like it might escape through your throat. He had a daughter? He'd had to save his own daughter from something? Someone?

Despite her efforts, his temperature continued to rise and she'd doused towels in iced water and covered him with them. Kneeling by his side until the dawn, listening to his ramblings as he relived a fierce struggle in the depths of his nightmares. She'd fallen asleep by his side, her head rested on the couch. She was woken when he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her away from him, it was the first time she felt a little fear, her heart thudding in her chest as she leaned against the nearby wall and watched him. He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't get up, he was still out of it. After a rant about parasites, he'd stilled once more, slumping back into the void of fever. Day two had perhaps been the hardest, she was operating on a handful of hours sleep and with so much to take care of, she'd ended up sobbing over the buckets of oats she was to feed the horses, then cuddling Dutchman as the large beast ate his hay and wondered why he wasn't being taken out for his usual ride. She'd apologized to the big black horse and returned to her charge, weary, she'd hit the first step to the porch when he started screaming. She'd dropped her buckets and raced inside, she'd never heard such desperate terror from anybody but herself, when that thing had tried to bite her.

His eyes were open but he wasn't there, and as she approached him to grab his shoulders and try and rouse him or comfort him he'd lashed out and struck her clean across the face. She'd staggered and ended up in an armchair, watching him as he writhed and contorted. Convinced he was going to die. She'd failed him. She had to get him to a hospital, somehow. With an ice pack to her swelling cheek she'd gone out to her fathers truck to try and get it started, she was handy with tools and with fixing fences and apparently with medical stuff, but she was not handy with cars. She'd broken down for the second time that day, hurling a wrench in frustration as the answer to getting the thing started eluded her. He was going to die. She'd steeled herself that day, shut herself off to the sounds he made. She'd administered his medicine, kept him cool, and she prayed.

By day three, her reflexes had fine tuned to knowing when he was going to lash out. She knew it wasn't her, she knew it wasn't her he was trying to hurt or fend off. It was hallucinations, fever dreams, nightmare memories. She caught his wrists and used her entire bodyweight to pin his arms down, until he calmed. More names came forth, she heard about Claire.. a full name this time. Claire Redfield. He'd muttered something about Raccoon City and she'd stopped what she was doing and stared at him. "Claire, we have to get out of here," he'd rumbled,"the city is done."

"You were there?" she'd whispered to herself more than him. She'd taken to her Fathers study and dug out old newspapers, her dad used to get one on his weekly trip to the nearest small town. It took her a while, but she finally found one with the some information on Raccoon City. The Government had annihilated that city due to an uncontrollable outbreak, there had been only a handful of survivors. There was scant information, it stank of cover up and theories were rife. But what she did find, seemed to back him up. He'd been in Raccoon City and he was one of only a few survivors, names redacted for their safety and privacy, at least from this newspaper. After that, she'd found herself leafing through other papers and one thing gave her pause, from several years ago, after Raccoon city. The Presidents Daughter had been kidnapped, there was little information other than it was terrorists and again, it all screamed cover up. But the name, Ashley Graham.

Ashley. The Presidents Daughter.

Daughter.

If he'd survived Raccoon City and saved the Presidents Daughter, he was a bona fide hero. She doubled down on her determination to keep him alive right there and then.

He'd had a slightly better night, sleeping more soundly and only muttering the name Helena once or twice. There was nothing else to go on there, so instead she'd continued wading through Newspapers, looking for anything on these outbreaks and strange occurrences. The very stuff she'd spent her life trying to avoid, she now wanted to know all about. She found more mentions, strange things here and there. An outbreak in Africa, various mentions of a company named Umbrella. Manufacturing pharmaceuticals to save the world, it certainly sounded like they did more damage than good, so much so people campaigned to get them shut down. She read one story deep in to the night, it settled some kind of stone in her stomach. She'd been running and hiding for far too long, these things were very real and this man clinging to life on her couch was a part of it, on the good guys side.

The most recent paper was from right before her father died, it had been delivered by Joe, the man that brought them groceries once a week from the nearest town. It detailed an incident in New York, not long after she'd left it and returned here. An incident in which yet another viral outbreak had threatened to bring the city to its knees, but that a man named Chris Redfield along with the aid of an unnamed DSO Agent and a brilliant scientist named Rebecca Chambers, had thwarted the terrorist plot and administered a cure to the population. Redfield. Any relation to the Claire Leon had mentioned? There was a photo also, Chris Redfield, Rebecca Chambers, and a man with his face blurred out. She sucked in a breath, bringing the paper and its photo closer to get a better look. His jacket. Dark leather, pale stripes on the arms.

It was him.

The unnamed Division of Security Operations Agent that saved New York, Leon Kennedy, and he was fighting for his life on her couch.

Day four. He was quiet, sleeping soundly. She'd administered his antibiotics, cleaned his wound and washed him down. Then tended to her chores. At some point late in the morning she'd finally sat and explained to her ailing Mother what was happening, though she left out some of the details. She told her it was a hiker that had fallen and was sick, she was taking care of him. Her Mother seemed to only take in some of what she was saying, her alzheimers was getting worse. It wasn't the best feeling in the world. The rumbling of a truck engine had brought her around from deep thought as she made herself a sandwich in the kitchen. It was Joe, the weekly delivery of groceries.

"Oh, thank God." She mutters to herself, she'd completely forgotten he was coming. She greeted him on the porch and when he hefted the crate of supplies from the back of his truck, she held the door open for him to bring it inside.

"How have you been?" Joe asks her in his kindly, lilting country accent. She puffs out her cheeks and starts putting the items away.

"Well, that's a really long story." She chuckles wearily, making the older man chewing on his toothpick lift an eyebrow. Almost as if on cue, Leon groans from the couch and Joe's thick eyebrows shoot up into his cowboy hat.

"I didn't know you had company."

"I..." she hesitates, holding a carton of juice in her hand and trying to find a way to explain this, she places the carton into the fridge slowly, "I don't. There was an accident." She chooses her words carefully and Joe pushes away from the wall to look through in to the den.

"You got a half naked man on your couch." He remarks.

She can't help a small, anxious laugh, "yeah.. yeah I do. It's not what you think though, he's sick. Like, really sick."

Joe's face falls, "not the kind of sick they talk about on the news?"

"No! God no.. he had an accident, out on the mountains. Hiker." She lies, "I guess he fell, and some rusty metal went into his thigh. He was okay, but infection got in to it. I've been treating him.."

"With what?"

"With antibiotics we use on the cows."

Joe tugs off his hat and mutters a prayer, "this man needs a doctor."

"I know! Which.. which is why I need you to go get us one. Or at least, some help. I sure as hell can't lift him to your truck and neither can you with your hip." She gestures. Joe looks back to her, chewing his toothpick and putting his hat back on.

"Please, Joe. I'm doing my best but I'm not sure its enough, he doesn't deserve to go out like this, not after everything he's done."

"What's he done?"

"He.. he was a soldier." She gives him a half truth. But its all the information Joe needs. An army veteran himself, it sets the older man in to motion immediately. She feels relief flood through her as he sets off and promises he'll be back before the afternoons out with someone to help.

He keeps his word.

Joe brings the small towns doctor right to her house, and Leon's administered real antibiotics and IV fluids. She's shown how to change the bag and left more meds to give him, though she is praised for keeping him alive this long. Her decision to use the animals antibiotics had been a good one, it wasn't targeting the right bacteria, but it was doing enough to keep him breathing, keep his body fighting. The doctor cleans out the wound and stitches it properly, then tells her he'll return in two days to see how he's doing.

Day five. He doesn't make a sound all night, he sleeps peacefully. So does she, curled up in the armchair across from the couch with a blanket over her. It's the first full nights sleep she'd had since he crashed down from the sky, and she's woken only when a sunbeam dances through the curtain and plays across her eyes. Blinking, she yawns and rubs her eyes, then stretches and glances blearily around the room. After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she gets to her feet and pads over to him, resting her hand on his forehead. He felt normal. No fever. It had finally broken.

"Oh, thankyou," she whispers, lifting her eyes to the ceiling briefly before returning her attention to him. The IV bag was almost empty, but it would go a little longer. "I have to pee, I'll be right back," she whispers to him, then scurries off to go and do just that. She freshens up while she's in there, brushing her teeth and hair, washing her face. She'd shower after she'd tended to the animals. Still barefoot but wearing her tiny pajama shorts and a tank top, she jogs back down the stairs and puts the coffee on.

"What happened?"

"OH!" she jumps, her hand flying over her heart as she twirls quickly to see him standing in the arch of the doorway between kitchen and den. She can't help it, she laughs and he looks thoroughly perplexed. Even more so when she hurries over to him and throws her arms around his neck.

"Whoa, hey.." his hands gently rest on her hips and she pulls back as quickly as she'd done it, her cheeks flushing with a little embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, you barely know me. It's just..." she gestures to him, "I'm so happy to see you up."

"How long was I out?" He asks with a little frown.

"Five days.. this is day five.." she hitches a shoulder and his eyes widen, "you collapsed, there was an infection in the wound where the metal shard was. You've been just, out of it, it got pretty crazy."

"FIVE?" He exclaims, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head, his brow furrowed deeply.

"Five. You had a massive fever, I really thought you were going to die. I gave you antibiotics and tried to break it with wet towels and stuff, tried to keep you cool. It was.. it was rough. You really went through it there."

He bows his head, trying to process everything he was being told. Then he says something that makes her heart sink like a stone. "Probably shoulda let me die, woulda been a mercy killing."

Her jaw drops open and he hobbles toward the sink, getting a glass and helping himself to water. The whole time, she just stares at him. After everything she'd done, after how hard they'd fought to keep him alive, that was his response. "Well after everything you've been through, I didn't think a man like you deserved to be taken out by a little fucking bacteria." she folds her arms around herself.

He laughs into the glass, "fucking bacteria's been trying to take me out my whole life. Bacteria, fucking plagues, viruses, parasites, its all.. bullshit."

"And a hero doesn't deserve to go out like that."

"I'm no hero darlin'." He gives her a sideways glance and drains his glass.

"No? What about New York?"

The look he turns to her is cold, haunted. She swallows down a sudden dryness in her throat.

"What about Raccoon City? What about saving the Presidents Daught..." he advances on her so fast her breath catches in her throat, he grabs the tops of her arms and marches her backward until she's pressed against a wall with her mouth hanging open, no sound coming, such is the shock.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" He roars it in her face and she can't speak.

"You're hurting me." She manages, and his fist hits the wall beside her head making her yelp.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?" He bellows and tears sting her eyes, he was frightening, intimidating, the look in his eyes pure threat.

"I was trying to help you," she cries, "newspapers.. you talked in your sleep.. I put things together.. I..."

"Bullshit."

"Your fever was over 100, you were freaking out, you said so many things.. Raccoon City, Ashley Graham, Claire Redfield.." she reels it off desperately and looks him in the eye, "you said it all yourself and my father kept newspapers.. I just.. look." She points to the kitchen table where the things she'd researched sat in a pile. She scrunches her eyes shut, trying to fight the tears as he tilts his head sideways to look at what she was pointing at. "I just wanted to help you. I'm sorry. Please." When she reopens her eyes, his are closed. His grip on her softens and when he finally opens his eyes again their gazes meet. She holds it, allowing him to search for the lie she wasn't telling. He needed to see it for himself, obviously.

Its like the devil drains out of him and a gentler, kinder man moves in to his place. His hand lifts, fingertips gently grazing her cheek and the darkened skin just under her eye.

"Did I do that?"

He gets the tiniest nod in response. "You were reliving some pretty heavy shit." she whispers, then the tiniest smile turns up the corner of her lips, "the upside is I got some pretty good reflexes of my own now."

"Fuck." He bows his head, pulling away from her and wandering over to the table, he leafs miserably through the newspapers. She wasn't lying. He pauses at the New York article with the picture, his face blurred out, but the jacket hung on the wall not five feet from where he stood. "Shoulda let me die."

"No." She wipes her eyes, pushing away from the wall, "its not your fault."

"Its not my fault I just nearly put your head through a wall?" he asks incredulously. "Cause I'm fucking paranoid? Cause I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop? Looking for the catch? Cause I expect every motherfucker on earth to betray me?"

"It's called PTSD." She murmurs, "I know someone else that suffers from it, after being deployed overseas. Men and Women that protect us, protect the world from the shit out there. The shit people like me don't want to think about. You're heroes. It's not your fault."

"I've been asleep for five days and I'm so fucking tired." he mutters, dropping the newspaper.

"Then sleep for five more." She offers with a gentle smile.

"Nobody came for me while I was out? Nothing?" he asks.

"Nobody."

He nods slowly, "probably too busy dealing with that shit in Alaska."

"What shit in Alaska?"

"Some.. parasite in the ice. Its what I was en route to. They lost a team out there already.. we.." he shakes his head, "I shouldn't even be talking about it."

"Well, Alaska's a long way away, and we're here. So.." she shakes off the idea of ice parasites and looks him up and down, "rest a while."

He looks at her with a small, tired smile, and mouths 'okay'.


	4. A Normal Life

**Authors Note:** This story is just pouring out of me, I can't sleep. Now that the groundwork is done and the scene set, we can start getting down to it! Switching perspectives now. Miles to go, drama to come, hope you stick with it and enjoy. A quick warning, this chapter deals with thoughts of suicide. But its not all bleak!

* * *

 **"Is that what my lifes supposed to be? Fighting the living dead and the bastards that make em? Whats the point of it all?"**

 **Leon Kennedy, "Resident Evil: Vendetta"**

* * *

He sleeps. Over the course of the next few days he does something he hasn't done since High School and 'skips class'. After all, if they hadn't sent out a search team to track down one of the most highly regarded and requested Agents on the whole goddamn planet, why should he make the effort? Maybe he wasn't as highly thought of as they said he was, maybe he was just willing cannon fodder. A tapdancing monkey bowing to order and fuelled by the fading flame inside that still wanted to help people, still wanted to make the world a better place. And oh God, he did. He sacrificed blood by the bucket, his body looked like a roadmap to hell, all in the name of trying to make a difference. His dreams were tortured, only made quiet by alcohol and whatever legal pharmaceuticals he could get his hands on. He was the deadliest weapon the government had against Bio Organic Terrorism, but he was still just a man. His body ached. It had suffered, it had been torn and beaten, infected and cured, occasionally he still choked up blood – the after effects of having the Las Plagas parasite inside his body and subsequently removed. It all left scars, left its mark on his flesh and its toll on his mind.

When he was in the midst of battle there was nobody more focused, more determined, more deadly. He cut through the enemy like a scythe, sweeping death in his wake. A surgeon with a shotgun, deadshot with a handgun. He never missed, he rarely made a mistake. He wore the mistakes on his skin and he learned from each one of them, becoming a more efficient, more effective killer.

That's all he was. A killer. It was what they'd made him, the starry eyed 20 something that wanted to make a difference on the police force. Wanted to right wrongs and fight the good fight. He'd walked in to a vision of the apocalypse on his first day in the force, and the mere fact he came out Raccoon City a survivor seemed to sign a check on the rest of his life. He'd been interrogated and talked in to becoming a weapon for the Government, his experience making him just what they were looking for. Claire got away by dropping off the radar, he'd still had the foolish notion if he played by the rules eventually his life would return to normal. Instead, he was forced in to becoming an instrument of death. He was good at it, that was the frightening thing. His drive to survive and his want to protect flipped some kind of switch inside and when the time came, when it was kill or be killed, he never lost.

In the small amounts of down time he had, the spaces between missions, he rarely got a real break. Those times were filled with briefings and debriefings. With trying to sleep and trying to eat and rebuild his strength, heal his body from whatever torture it had gone through. He'd nursed gunshot wounds, claw marks, internal damage. Tears in his skin from the teeth of man made demons. His time off wasn't for him to have a life, it was for him to get himself well enough to do his job on the next one. The next, inevitable, terrorist or organization that discovered some evil shit and made a weapon of it. It never ended. No matter how many he took down, no matter how many others like him took down. It never ended.

There was no wife. No family. The women in his world were fleeting, he met them on a job or in a bar on his downtime and he satisfied the natural male urges and he moved on. He didn't have time for relationships, and he wouldn't want to put someone through the heartache and trauma of loving him anyway. He could just as easily be dead tomorrow, torn apart by some biological terror. Who could love that?

He was alone. And he was so.. so.. tired.

Ana had been honest with him, she had no more alcohol in the house. He knew because in the time she spent out working on the ranch, he scoured her home from top to bottom. Not just on the hunt for a drink, although that was a priority, but the natural investigative instinct in him. It was nice to be confronted with a house that didn't contain puzzles instead of door locks, that was for sure. But nothing here was locked, he moved from room to room freely. Her Fathers study was fascinating, stacked floor to ceiling with books on every subject you could imagine. From botany to biology, animal anatomy to world history. He'd found himself sitting in the leather chair at the desk with his feet up on on it, leafing through pages of a book on European agriculture during the early 1900's. Shit he never even knew he wanted to know about. Farmers were some hardy motherfuckers, that was for sure.

For the first few days he didn't venture outside. He nursed his leg wound and limped around, nosing in to things. Relaxing in to the place a little the longer he found no evidence she was a secret government spy or an undercover enemy looking to turn him in to a human glove puppet. She was just a sweet, forgiving woman that didn't make him feel like shit for the black eye he gave her in his delirious fever. In fact she said she wore it proudly, joking that she'd gone in to battle with a Monster Assassin and won. It was kinda cute, he'd humored her, giving her that win. She cooked and she seemed to juggle a hundred chores and she did it with an easy grace. All the women he'd ever been surrounded by had either been as war torn as he was or just looking to jump on his dick. Both were fine, and he'd had some real intense affairs with some of them, but it was all very much all surface- no feeling.

Except for Ada. But the less said about that battle angel the better. She'd always have a part of him, but he fucking hated her sometimes. Especially after leaving him on that fucking roof in China. You save a woman's life and she breezes out of it like all you did was buy her a cheap drink in a grungy bar. Ada Wong was never going to happen. Or As Redfield – the meathead Redfield – put it. Ada Wrong.

Ana however, was like none of them. Sweet and kind, no complaints and no demands. And for a little thing, she was pretty tough. He'd watched her haul hay bales on her shoulders and wrestle a full grown cow to the ground to tend to a sore. Of course, it helped that she was on the right side of pretty fucking gorgeous, also. He listened to her stories of life on the ranch and her time in the cities with a kind of fascination. It was just nice not to be hearing about terrorism, or discussing battle tactics. Or the endless small talk that happened between him and people he'd just met on their way in to someone elses war. It was nice to hear about life, must be nice to be normal. Though she insisted she was far from normal, her life seemed a million miles removed from the shit he saw and lived on a regular basis.

He also shared with her a little more about himself. Her research had lifted the veil anyway, so why not? He told her about Spain and the shit he went through trying to rescue Ashley Graham. He told her about South America before that. About the crazy shit that went down in the eastern Slav Republic and how he'd taken down two monsters the size of small buildings. She seemed equal parts fascinated, disbelieving, and apprehensive. He told her there were plenty of other men like him out there, fighting to keep those demons from her doorstep. And besides, she couldn't be more safe with him in the house.

Its a dream about D.C that wakes him up clutching his chest, the bomb exploding and ripping his team to shreds. He'd barely escaped, the only survivor of the blast. Then he'd had to go see the bodies and put down the ones that decided to come back. Fucking bio warfare, it really knew how to drive the knife in and twist. He sits up in bed, panting, eyes fixing on a painting across the room that depicted a calm river with a single boat. He takes deep breaths, closing his eyes, steadying the panic inside. He'd survived.. again. He was okay.

Once the panic fades, he lets out a heavy sigh and pulls the sheets from his legs, getting up and padding through to the bathroom to splash water on his face and wake himself up. He showers and washes the memories down the drain, if only that was where they'd stay. Towel around his waist, he peers over the stair rail to see if she's up, he'd slept in somehow. He spots signs she'd been up for a while and was probably out tending to the animals, so in his towel he thuds down the stairs and to the little room to the side of the kitchen. She'd put all the salvaged stuff from the crash in there, getting his pile of guns off of the table. He flicks on the light and takes down the locked metal case from a shelf he'd put it up on to. Light off again, he takes it upstairs and shuts himself into the bedroom he'd taken as his own for the time being.

With the case left on the dresser, he clothes himself in jeans and a black t shirt and then sits on the edge of the bed, turning the digits on the combination lock and opening up the box. With a bit of a sigh, Leon lets the top of the case fall open and he plucks a file folder from inside, opening it up. There's a pang of guilt, he should be in Alaska. He should be dealing with the fucking mess detailed inside. Some bunch of scientists had discovered a parasite deep in the core of some ice and like the total fucking geniuses they were, they woke it up. This parasite had proceeded to multiply in the bodies of the scientists that thought they could study it, and explode out of them when in proximity to other warm bodies. Effectively turning human beings in to proximity mines of complete fucking bullshit and infecting everyone around them. It had the potential to spread fast and really fuck things up, so of course they'd sent in a team to neutralize the situation. That team was now missing in action, and this thing was the exact kind of garbage terror junkies got a massive hard on for.

The whole thing needed to be shut the hell down.. and that was what he was supposed to be doing.

Yet here he was. Cooling his heels, licking his wounds. Because fuck them. Hadn't he given enough? Hadn't he done enough? This was never going to stop and he'd never asked for this responsibility in the first place.

He closes his eyes for a moment, then folds the file closed. The next thing he picks out of the case is his ID, it also contained a credit card for those on the road needs. Though the second he used it, they'd know exactly where he was. If they ever got in to town anyway. He checks through the wallet, still some cash in it. He should probably carry it like a normal human being, being as he was attempting to be normal, even if only for a short time. However long he managed to either avoid them, or not let his guilt eat him alive.

Before he closes the case, he picks up the biggest and heaviest item in it. His 500 Magnum. It was a beast of a gun, heavy as shit and would take the head clean off of a walking corpse. As is habit, he checks its fully loaded. When he clicks it back in to place, he turns the weapon and holds it under his chin, finger on the trigger. What a way to go, he could pull it right now and he'd know fuck all about it. Shit would just be over, it would finally end. No more fighting, no more horror, no more leading others in to their death. "Pull it, you fucking coward." Leon mutters to himself, closing his eyes.

End it.

This poor girl already dragged her fathers dead body out of this room. He might be an asshole, but he wasn't a fucking asshole.

With a heavy sigh he lowers the weapon and places it back in the box, about to close it when he hears the unmistakable sound of a car engine. He listens. It comes to a stop and there's the sound of slamming doors. They'd found him. They were coming to collect. He glances at the gun again and considers his options. Then with a heavy heart puts the case aside and drags himself to his feet. He plucks his trusty leather jacket from the chair in the corner of the room and slides it on, then wanders over to the window to peer out at what was happening. He was a little surprised there weren't already soldiers in this room, or someone in a suit yelling at him.

Leon pulls back the curtain and watches. Ana stood with her arms folded defensively around herself as four men seemed to flank her.

"What the shit?" he mutters, narrowing his eyes. If they had been wearing suits or tactical gear he'd assume they were interrogating her about his whereabouts. But they weren't. They were four scrubs in jeans and plaid shirts. One of them holding what looked like a bat of some kind. Leons jaw clenches, wishing he could hear what was being said. He could open the window but it would draw attention his way. His lip reading skills were pretty good but at this distance and angle it was hard to make out. He's 99% sure the youngest and cockiest looking of the bunch calls her a bitch, though. His fingers curl in to a fist and he eyes their vehicle. A truck, an expensive looking one. Country folk with a fuck ton of money to splash around. Then he notices in the back of the truck, a man in a suit.

His attention snaps back to the group as he finally hears a voice. Ana's, shouting at them, telling them to get off of her property and pointing at the dirt track for them to fuck off on. That was all he needed to know.

Backing away from the window he snatches the magnum from the case and tucks it into the back of his jeans, no time for holsters and fucking around. Leg pain forgotten, he thuds down the stairs and opens the door, striding out in to the thick of it and inserting himself directly between Ana and the four men.

"Leon.." she protests.

"What's the problem?" He asks the men, "it looks pretty clear to me like the lady asked you to leave."

"Who the fuck are you?" The younger, ballsier one snaps and brandishes that bat. Leon ignores him, his eyes levelled on the elder of the group.

"I'm not going to tell you again." Leon says calmly.

The older gentleman begins to laugh, looking him up and down. "You don't know what you're dealing with, boy. Step aside and let us talk to the lady."

"From what I heard, she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Leon.." Ana gently touches his arm. He doesn't take his eyes off of them, but he addresses her.

"Ana do you want to speak to them?"

"She doesn't have a choice! She knows she's on borrowed time here, this land is rightfully ours and we have.."

"That's bullshit!" Ana defends. "Show me the legal document that says my father left this farm to you. There isn't one. I don't owe you shit!"

"Quite the mouth you have on you." One of them laughs at her.

The elder puts his hands on his hips, "one way or another you know you can't run this ranch alone, we'll make sure by spring there's not a damn soul from here to Nevada that'll touch you or your cattle with a 50ft pole. You WILL sign it over to us."

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way.." Another interjects. Leon feels Ana squeeze his arm in anger and its all the indicator he needs. In a swift, fluid motion he draws the magnum from the back of his jeans and levels it on the elder, right between the eyes. "I choose the hard way."

His hand was steady as a rock, and suddenly the balls on these men aren't quite so big. Hands slowly lifting. To the far right of his field of vision he sees the younger one with the bat make a move. "Try it sport and you'll lose an arm." Leon deadpans. Not taking his eyes off of the elder. The elder glances at the younger man and shakes his head. Leon's lips turn up at the corner. "Smart decision. Now make another one, turn around, go back to your midlife crisis wagon, and fuck off."

"What's your name, son?" The elder tries a new tactic, it doesn't work.

"Elvis. Why are you still here?"

"Listen, we have legitimate business with the lady and I know you mean well.."

Leon laughs, "that's the last thing I mean." With that, he moves the gun a fraction to the right and pulls the trigger, taking out the wing mirror on the truck and making them near piss their pants. Behind him, Ana's hands fly over her mouth. The barrels back between the elders eyes as soon as he gets his shit together.

"That's criminal damage!"

"Sue me. You wont win. I'm a DSO Agent and you're on private property harassing a single woman, in fact it sounds distinctly like you're trying to intimidate her in to giving you something you're not legally entitled to. A court frowns on that, and they'll take my word over yours every single time. Leave, don't come back."

Silence. But they believe him, there's just something in his tone that speaks of total truth and no hint of a lie, because there wasn't one. He'd have these people buried in so much litigation their grandkids grandkids would be filing for legal aid. One phone call.

He keeps that aim steady as they back away to the truck, then make the three point turn. As they're about to drive away, one of them spits out the window in their direction.

"Some assholes always gotta get the last word," he mutters, watching them drive away.

"I can't believe you did that," Ana finally finds words.

"What was that even all about?" he asks, finally lowering the weapon and turning to face her. She sighs and runs her hands through her hair.

"My father owed them money, I'm not even completely sure what happened I kinda came in to the middle of it. They say he promised them they could have the ranch after he died. As payment. But there's nothing, no legal document, nothing to prove it. So.." she shrugs, an exasperated look on her face. "I thought they were done with this but apparently not."

He considers this for a moment, the worst shit happened over money. The almighty dollar was almost as frightening as the bio weapons. "Well, I don't think they'll come back. If they do.. you let me know." He softens his expression, letting the soldier slide. "I kinda owe you one."

Her smile could make a sunny day brighter.

"That's a hell of a gun." she comments, giving him a sideways glance, "did you have that hiding in your pants this whole time?"

"Not many places you can't hide a gun." He chuckles.

"Apparently!" Ana laughs with him, relieved, her stomach was still in knots but she was thankful they were gone and hopeful that they'd stay that way. "Never even held one." She makes a face, "well.. except this little one we have for when we need to put a cow or something out of its misery, but.." she shudders.

"Never?" Leon found this genuinely surprising.

"Nope. Always felt like I'm too uncoordinated for that. Like I'd blow my foot off or something."

He looks at the magnum thoughtfully, "well, this one would probably be a bit heavy for you but.."

"Oh.. oh no.." she holds up her hands, "I'm good, thanks."

"You're living out here by yourself, you really should know how to use one."

Ana makes a face, tucking her hands in to the back pockets of her jeans. He did have a point.

"You got some bottles or cans or something?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah probably. In the barn."

"Well line some up on the fence, I'll be right back."

She watches as he turns and heads back to the house, calling after him is useless. She'd swiftly learned that once he got something in his head, it was happening. With a roll of her eyes she laughs to herself and jogs off to the barn.

When she returns, carrying a bucket full of old plastic containers that some of the horses supplements came in, he's already standing by the fence, holsters on now, guns tucked in to various places. She brings the bucket over and he examines the containers, declaring them fit for purpose.

He creates a shooting range and as he does, she stands back, biting her thumb nail and watching him work. When he's set up a good eight cartons at varying points on the triple rail fencing, he returns to her and draws the smaller of his favorite guns from the holster at his ribs. Taking it by the barrel, he hands it to her and she gingerly takes hold of it. He draws his Desert Eagle from his thigh holster and shows her how to hold hers right. She laughs, claiming the smaller gun is still heavy and she was feeble.

"Bullshit, I saw you carry two hay bales over your shoulders." He throws her a grin.

"That's different!"

"Strength is strength, its that you believe you can do it that makes the difference."

She blinks and looks toward the target he tells her to aim for. Giving her some gentle instructions and encouragement, he tells her to pull the trigger when she's ready.

She takes a deep breath and fires, letting out a shriek and laugh as she does. She hits nothing, and it stings her hand. "Ow!"

"You gotta relax." He chuckles, moving behind her, "you hold it all tense of course its gonna hurt." She gives him a bit of a side eye smirk, though of course he doesn't see it. Her smirk wavers when she feels him press against her, the warm bulk of his body a sturdy wall behind her. And he smelled good. She clears her throat and brings the gun up again, his hands come around to cover hers, showing her physically how to hold it, his own gun re-holstered.

"Now, relax," he murmurs near to her ear, she could feel his hair brush her cheek and suddenly her heart does that flip flop thing. She has to take a deep breath.

She wasn't the only one that sensed the shift between them in this moment. She smelled like honey, sweet. Her hair soft, her skin smooth. Her smaller form fit against his like a perfect puzzle piece.

Behave yourself, Kennedy. He scolds inwardly.

His hands move down from hers and to her elbows, he narrows his eyes, aiming for her. "See that?" his voice barely above a whisper. "That's what you want. That's your target."

"Got it." she breathes.

"Now, when you're ready, shoot."

How had this suddenly become so erotic?

His hands leave her arms and rest on her hips. Watching. She takes another breath and pulls the trigger. Its not a perfect shot, but it clips the top of the carton and sends it flying. She gasps and he grins, releasing her as she raises her arms in the air.

"I did it!"

"You did."

"I'm like a badass now." She turns to face him and he laughs, taking the gun from her hands as she waves it a little carelessly.

"Like a badass? I'm hiring you for my next mission." he quips. She makes a face.

"Hopefully its a mission that just involves some really angry puppies or something. I'm not sure I can handle 40 ft giants."

"That was the exact brief of my next deployment," he nods, holstering the gun, "pack of slobbering poodle pups in Paris. It's gonna be tough, but with you by my side we'll make it."

Her grin lit up her whole face and her eyes sparkled. It was kinda like she got more beautiful every time he looked at her. And he'd never met anyone so overjoyed to have missed the bullseye on a target. It was kinda adorable.

When her laughter finally ebbs, he takes a deep breath, reminding himself he was just a guest in her house playing hooky from work for a while. She didn't deserve what came with the Leon Kennedy package. She was too good for it.

"What about you?" She asks, cutting in to his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"I want to see what you can do." She gestures.

"Oh you do?" he smiles, he didn't need much convincing, and it was always good to get in a few rounds of practice anyway. It had been a couple of weeks. "Well then I'm gonna need you to stand back, maam."

She salutes with a grin and does as he says. Once she's a few feet away, he eyes the targets and then draws. In 7 quick shots, all 7 remaining targets are down.

"Wow.. you're pretty good at that." She teases, but she really meant it. That was something, and he hit them all dead center, like it was the easiest thing in the world for him. As simple as breathing.

"I got a ways to go before I'm your level but, y'know." He shrugs, wandering over to the fence and picking up one of the cartons.

She bites her lip, getting an idea. She'd seen it in a movie once.

"But can you do it with a distraction?"

He looks back to her, setting the carton back on the fence. "Did I tell you about the time I took down over 30 BOW's in a narrow corridor? I live for distractions." He boasts, puffing his chest out.

"What about from like.. three times the distance?"

He narrows his eyes at her, picking up the other cartons, setting them in various spots. "That sounds like a challenge."

"Its definitely a challenge."

He walks back toward her and checks the clip in his gun, then walks straight past. Heading up toward the house. He makes it more than three times the distance, he goes for five. She says nothing, but if he could hit them from there she really was impressed, they were like tiny dots now.

He cracks his neck and takes up a position, lifting his gun. A single breath, and his targets become the only things in the world.

As he lets off the first three shots, he hits each carton perfectly. Her heart pounds in her chest, and she steps forward, slipping an arm around his middle and tiptoeing to gently blow on his ear.

He takes the other targets down without blinking.

"Well.. I think your point is proven," she says softly, smiling at him as he glances down at her.

"You don't play fair."

"I was just testing you!"

Leon smirks, a lewd joke wanted to slip out but he stops himself. Not the time, not the place.. not the woman. He holsters his gun and glances up toward the sky, then over to the barn. "I should give fixing that truck a shot. Gonna need more ammo if you're gonna keep testing me. Need to get in to town."

He really should contact someone, he supposed.

Her face falls. He wanted to leave. "Right, of course, there s tools in the first stable, next to Azure.. the grey mare." she says softly.

He nods, "I'll clean up the target practice."

"I'll make us some lunch." She draws in a breath and pulls away from him. Heading toward the house. He watches her go, then shakes his head, walking down to the fence and picking up each carton.

He's given pause when he gets to the 4th one. All the others had been hit dead center. He holds the 4th one up and runs his thumb over the bullet hole right at the bottom. Right when she'd slipped her arm around his waist.

She'd thrown him off. If only a little.

"Huh." he looks up toward the house.

He was in trouble.


	5. I'm Not That Good at Goodbye

**Authors Note:** Phew, is it me or is it getting hot in here? Steamyness and angst ahead.

* * *

 **"It got cold and then dark so suddenly and rained**  
 **It rained so hard the two of us were the only thing**  
 **That we could see for miles and miles**

 **And in the middle of the flood I felt my worth**  
 **When you held onto me like I was your little life raft**  
 **Please know, that you were mine as well"**

 **\- Snow Patrol**

* * *

Horses. Of all the beasts he'd dealt with over the past 17 years they were some of the most intimidating. Ana had three, so Leon discovered. Inside the large barn that housed a myriad of things were five stables, two empty and three occupied. In the first empty stable he finds the tools she had mentioned, but in the stable next door a large and beautifully colored horse watched him intently while idly chewing a mouthful of hay. "You must be Azure," he eyes the animal, who blinks her response. She was what horse people would call an 'Iron grey'. So grey she almost looked blue in certain lights, he supposed that was where she got the name. The same color as an ocean at dusk, in some of the more beautiful places in the world.

The large beast simply sighs like he bored her and returns to her rack of food. He finds the things he's looking for and as he rummages through the box to check what equipment was available, a sunbeam sneaks through the crack between wood and warms the side of his face.

He so rarely had a chance to stop and take in the moments. To really see the places he visited. He'd been around the world but he couldn't tell you much about it, that was a little sad. He finds himself turning his face toward the warmth of the light and closing his eyes. His senses were always on alert, always taking in the world around him, assessing his surroundings and situations. He could hear the gentle breaths of the horses, the quiet munch as they chewed hay. Somewhere, chickens clucked and warbled and went about their business, searching for grain. The light jingle of what he assumed was a wind chime added a kind of music to the air, it was far away though, maybe on the top level of the barn where he could see hay bales and feed bags stacked.

He'd never known a place more peaceful than this spot, right here. It stilled something inside him, something he didn't even realize was tense – tightly bound. In that moment, he wanted to retire and spend the rest of his life right there. The thought makes him open his eyes, focusing on the tools in front of him. Was retirement even an option? How did you retire from a job that demanded your presence and had never taken no for an answer before. They'd never let him go, he was part of this war until he was dead. That had sunk in long ago. If nothing else, he knew too much for them to want him as a civilian out in the world. Could he even do it? Could he even switch off the warrior within and just be a man?

Leon shakes his head and snaps out of it, no time for smelling the roses or whatever that saying was. He hefts the toolbox off of the stack of crates it sat on and carries it back into the main barn. The truck sat at the far end and looked like it hadn't moved in years, which by all accounts, it hadn't. As he passes toward it a giant head looms out over a stable door. The biggest horse he'd ever seen, jet black with shimmering eyes, extended his nose toward Leon.

"Holy shit.." he mutters, pausing to take in the magnificent creature. He cautiously lifts a hand and the horse gently puffs warm, hay sweet breath over his palm. Leon's eyes flick to the door and the name plate there. "Dutchman," he says the horses name and its ears prick toward him, "that your name, buddy?"

He finally touches the animals velvety muzzle and he feels that peace again. He was used to dealing with giant creatures that wanted to kill him, all teeth and claws and buckets of saliva and whatever other disgusting gunk. This one was huge, clearly powerful, but so gentle. So soft. "Like the Flying Dutchman?" he asks as if the horse could answer. "Legendary ghost ship, you doomed to sail the oceans forever?" musing, he rubs his hand lightly up to the horses cheek and he finds his shoulder gently nudged by an inquisitive nose. "I know the feeling." He mutters.

After a while, the horse retreats back in to his stable to continue his grazing and Leon tells himself off for stalling. He passes the third horse, colored with brown and white patches and apparently going by the name of Domino, he doesn't stop to say hi to this one. Reaching the truck and dropping down his tool kit, he lifts the hood and gets to work.

The day draws on, the truck had more problems than a doctors waiting room. In the humid heat, he strips his t shirt and jacket off and ends up covered in engine grease. There were worse sights in the world, Ana had mused to herself as she'd brought him out drinks and sandwiches. She didn't want him to go, having someone else around the house was a company she didn't know she'd been missing, and with his job, how could she know she'd ever see him again?

It wasn't just the company. She'd saved his life, whether he was grateful for that or not, going through something like that made you care. The things he'd told her about what he did put little knots in her stomach whenever she thought of it. He could leave, he could die, she'd never ever know what had happened to him. It has her in a sombre mood as she sits on a hay bale and sips lemonade, watching him work.

"Alright, you son of a bitch," Leon gruffs, pulling back from the engine and wiping his blackened hands off on a piece of cloth, "if you don't work now I'm taking you out back and setting you on fire." He sounded so determined and like he could threaten a piece of machinery in to working, it makes her laugh. She'd miss that.

He moves around the car and to the drivers seat, turning the key. The truck coughs and splutters, making some real sounds of effort. He grits his teeth, trying again. Third times the charm, and the engine finally roars to life, spooking the horses a little. Her heart sinks as he celebrates his victory by smacking his hands on the wheel and calling the truck his bitch. She smiles wistfully and gets off the hay bale, moving over to Domino and offering him a soothing hand, the horse had been surprised by the sudden start of the engine. She rubs the animals neck and watches as Leon gets out of the truck and drops the hood, turning her a triumphant smile.

He looked like he was carved out of stone, beyond the scars. A toned body that screamed power and athletic prowess. She can't help it, her eyes drift to that hard line of muscle in his abdomen that made a delicious V shape that vanished under the slightly too big pair of jeans he'd borrowed from her fathers wardrobe. He was really something.

"Victory is mine," he declares as he wanders over to her, wiping grease off of his hands on to a rag.

"Looks that way, never failed a mission, right?" She smiles.

"Sooner or later, shit always goes my way." He hitches a shoulder and reaches the stable door, leaning against it.

"I bet it does," Ana answers with a gentle laugh, looking up to the horse that now nuzzled her shoulder.

"Getting late now though so, tomorrow," he says quietly, looking down at his hands and checking progress with the grease. He needed a wash.

"I get one more night with my Monster Assassin huh?" she leans her cheek against the horses nose and sets her eyes on him.

"Maybe, tell the truth I could use a vacation. Maybe they don't need me. Maybe.. I can work something out." He was surprised the words came out of his mouth also, but honestly, Alaska read like the job from hell and with a bum leg and the mood he was in, it sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. "But I have to speak to them."

Inwardly, Ana's telling herself off. She had no claim to this man, she barely knew him, it had been two weeks and she'd no reason to think there was anything more between them than a nurse and patient bond. But his hands on her earlier had made her shiver inside in the best way possible. She wanted more.

Her time working in strip clubs in the cities had given her a pretty low opinion of men. It had been a long, long time since she'd been touched and enjoyed it. Felt anything beyond a desire to get the hell away as soon as possible. But he'd put his arms around her and showed her how to hold a gun and she'd felt completely safe, like nothing in the world could ever harm or grope or get to her again. Who wouldn't want to cling to that feeling? Hold on to it with everything you had?

"You think they'll make you go back?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"But your leg."

"I've worked through worse and they know it."

"But.." she can't think of a but. She can't think of a good reason why they wouldn't want the world saved just to give him a holiday.

Silence stretches between them, lingering like a stone in the air. Domino seems to sense it and backs away, wanting no part of the humans and their drama. He studies her face, she looked sad. What was happening here? Despite every logical voice in his head telling him not to, telling him that Leon Kennedy wasn't a thing that should be inflicted on another human being, he lifts his hand and gently touches her chin, bringing her eyes back to him.

"Thankyou." He says quietly, and she blinks, confused.

"What for?"

"For saving my life."

Oh God. Tears instantly prickle her eyes and it's a battle to keep her composure, she bites her lip as his hand moves, his palm brushing her cheek. She leans in to the touch, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back to him. "You're welcome." her voice cracks as she says it and he doesn't want her to cry, he doesn't want to see that. He lifts his other hand and cups her face, his heart thudding in his chest. Those logical voices screaming at him not to do it. Don't break this girls heart, because you know that's exactly what you'll do, one way or another.

There's no happy ending here.

She closes the distance between them, bringing her lips gently to his. He lets it happen. He wants it to happen. He draws her closer to him, the kiss an outpouring of everything that had had happened over the past two weeks. Her body fit against his and felt right, like she belonged there, the missing part he didn't even know he'd been searching for.

His hair tickled her face, his arms around her again took her to that perfect, safe place. She leans in to the sturdy bulk of him and wraps her arms around his neck, pouring everything she had in to that kiss. She wanted him to stay, wanted him to be safe, wanted to keep on taking care of him and wanted him to take care of her. They could. He could save her from her isolation and from the scary world out there, she could save him from the demons. The real ones, and the ones in his head. She didn't want him to go, didn't want him to hurt anymore. There in his arms, tangled up in one another and lost in their kiss, they were perfect.

For a fleeting moment, everything was perfect.

"I can't." he suddenly breaks the kiss and pulls back, shattering her heart in to a thousand pieces. "We can't do this."

"What?" she breathlessly stares at him, disbelief on her face.

"You don't want this."

"How can you possibly know what I want?"

"No I'm telling you," he says flatly, "You don't want this. You don't want any part of this. You want to run.. as far as you can.. never look back."

"Leon.."

"This doesn't end well, Ana. There's no scenario in which this has a happy ending."

Tears well in her eyes, "you don't know that."

"I do know that. You don't know me. You don't know my life. They're not going to let me go, they might give me a fucking vacation but this never ends, not really. I know too much, once you're in as deep as I am there's no ending it. No turning your life around. This is it for me, and you don't want this. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let that happen."

"I'm not sorry." She challenges.

"Well you should be. You saved my life and I'm thankful for that, I am. But that's where this should end, because any other scenario ends in nothing but your heart broken, or worse."

She swipes the tears from her cheeks and shakes her head, "I don't believe that."

"Well believe it." He barks, grabbing her arms, he had to make her see.

"You get in to this with me you doom yourself to a lifetime of wondering, of waiting, they send me away and you wont know if I'm alive or dead one minute to the next. You spend your life waiting for a phone call, or a car to pull up and tell you I've been ripped apart. That's what you sign up for with me."

"Thousands of women sign up for that, thousands of partners, thousands of people have loved ones in the army or.."

"This is different."

"How?!"

"Because in my line of work.."

"I get it!"

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" He yells at her, shaking her a bit and she's stunned into silence. "These people will use you."

She blinks, wide eyed.

"Don't you get that? People in my world stay alone because as soon as you have something they can use against you, they'll use it. I go up against a terrorist with billions invested in a bio weapon that could wipe out an entire country, soon as they know who I am, they won't bother coming for me. They'll come for you. They'll do ANYTHING to protect their investment and to them, you're worthless. You become my weakness and I can't have that. I can't see them torture you, turn you in to one of their sick sideshow freaks. That's exactly what they'd do. They'd find you and turn you and probably send you in for me to kill. Don't you get it? Even if you're not spending every minute waiting and wondering if I'm dead or alive, every second you're with me.. you're in danger. Those monsters will march right to your door, once you're on their radar, there's no mountain range far enough for you to run to."

He releases her arms and takes a few steps back, sweeping his hand through his hair and leaving her shell shocked.

"I'm sorry, you have no idea how much I wish things were different."

Shaking, she runs her fingers under her eyes and nods, agreeing with him. "Me too." she whispers. The weight of it all settling heavy on her shoulders. Just her luck, really. The first man she'd taken a liking to in years, the first that didn't treat her like an object to be hollered at and groped, or like a worthless farm girl.. and he was a danger to her very existence. How did people live like that? It was a scary, sobering thought. She felt a fraction of the tension and fear he must feel constantly, the weight of it must be unbearable. And to face it all alone?

"Maybe in another life, then?" she whispers, they were the only words that came to her. It was just her nature, she had to find the hope in everything, even if it was a fantasy. She had to or she'd go mad.

His expression softens and he runs his grease stained hand through that mop of dirty blonde hair. "I hope so."

She draws in a breath and hugs her arms around herself, wishing they were his. "You should take a shower, I'll make some dinner." Change the subject, what she always did when shit got too awkward and hard.

Leon's silent, simply nodding his agreement and turning away to tidy up the tools and pick up his shirt and holsters. They return to the house without speaking, and he carefully lays out his guns on the side dresser and slips away upstairs to clean himself off. In the shower, he feels like he'd gone ten rounds with a Tyrant. Bracing his hands against the tiled wall and dipping his head to let hot water rain down on the back of his neck, plastering his hair to his face. He felt like shit. He felt angry, angry at the whole goddamn world. Angry he was who he was, that lightning had hit a one in a million shot and taken out the helicopters systems. Angry that fate had put him here with this beautiful woman that seemed to see right in to his soul and just accept. Angry that he had to leave, that by existing he put her in danger. He wasn't just speculating either, he'd seen and heard of this shit first hand. The nastiest villains always went after the ones you loved. He'd seen fellow Agents go through it, sinking in to hopelessness not long after. When you were in the Bio Terror game, it was your life.

Shame he'd never actually set out to be a part of it.

He strikes the wall with his fist and a loud growl, making a crack in the tile and stepping back to stare at it.

Suck it up, Kennedy. Tomorrow you'll likely be on your way in to a war zone. You need to get your shit together.

So that's what he does. Steeling himself, he washes off the grime and dresses in some sweatpants and a tank top, leaving the other clothes neatly folded at the foot of the bed. She'd clothed him, fed him, fought for his damn life. And he was just going to leave. Not fair.

Once he's ready he heads back downstairs, she'd cooked simple pasta with some kind of meatballs and it was the best meal he could imagine. Carbs would be good to load up on and walk in to a battle that could last days, not much opportunity to stop and eat on a lot of those missions. What did they even serve in Alaska? They sit in the living room and she starts a fire, there's no TV and once upon a time that would have bugged him, he needed background noise to keep his thoughts in check. But now it seemed perfect, just to sit near her, eat, small talk. Making their plans for tomorrow. When they're done, she clears things away and he remains on the couch, gazing at the flames with his ankle crossed over his knee and his arm slung across the back of the sofa. She returns and stands before him. She looked like a perfect angel bathed in gold.

"I know we can't.." she trails off, "but maybe just tonight?"

He wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but he supposed if she knew the truth of it, then tonight none of it mattered. "Sure," he answers quietly. Giving her a welcoming smile. She sinks down in to the couch and curls up at his side, tucking herself in to the nook between his arm and his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She fit there perfectly, his puzzle piece. She just wanted one night to feel like his, and this was perfect. Watching the fire, his fingers drift through her hair and he felt that calm wash over him. If only.

After a while, she asks him to tell her a story of mission that wasn't hell. Of a good memory. Maybe she needed to know there was a chance he wouldn't get ripped apart by parasites, that maybe not all missions were bad. And they weren't, honestly. Some were just boring. So he tells her about his first trip to Japan to retrieve a wanted hacker that was being deported. It was the simplest, easiest job ever. He'd gone in expecting the usual drama and instead his charge had just been compliant and even quite funny. He'd ended up rather liking the guy and his sense of humor. Not every criminal was a raging psychopath, it turned out.

He also tells her of a mission in to Angkor, a ruined and forgotten city deep in the jungles of Cambodia. Again, completely expecting the usual horror show. Especially in forgotten cities full of mystical bullshit. He'd imagined traps and curses and all kinds of wrath. Instead, Chris Redfield ate some bad food at the first village they came across and got the worlds worst case of food poisoning. Which naturally to everybody else, was fucking hilarious. They'd trekked across the jungle encountering minimal resistance from a pretty badly organized enemy, while Chris quite literally crapped his pants. Poor guy. There was a reason Leon only ever ate things that came from a packet when in other countries. The story has her laughing and he loves the sound, it put him at ease.

As the night draws on, she yawns. She'd been up earlier than him to tend to the ranch and it had certainly been an eventful day. So they relinquish their comfortable embrace and go their separate ways. She heads up for a shower and he stays down, going through the things he'd likely have to get together for his departure. He assumed once he made contact, they'd chew him out, then send someone to pick him up. It wouldn't be more than a few hours, tops.

With his things in order, he turns out the light and heads upstairs, finding her emerging from checking on her mother. She had damp hair and a tiny pair of shorts exposing those slender legs. She'd told him she used to be a dancer, it wasn't hard to see it. Perfect tits rested under a thin white tank top and its all he can do not to just stare at them. He's fairly sure she caught him looking, the smile on her face had a little mischief to it. "Everything okay?" he asks, gesturing to her mothers door.

She nods, glancing back at it. "She's sleeping, seems to be doing that more and more these days."

He worried she'd soon be completely alone out here. Someone like her shouldn't live their lives alone.

"Time, the cruellest master of all." He replies quietly.

"Ain't that the truth." She sighs and folds her arms, leaning against the wall and smiling at him. "I guess we should get an early start."

"Yeah. Back to the grind." He shrugs a little. "Thanks for everything, for putting me up, the clothes.. y'know, my life." He chuckles.

"It was my pleasure." She nods. Pushing away from the wall and brushing past him to head to her room, she pauses in the doorway and looks back at him and he feels her eyes on him, looking over his shoulder to her. "I hope you wont be a stranger."

A smile flickers over his face. He couldn't answer that, he likely would be. He couldn't bring danger to her doorstep. Instead, he gives her a small nod. With that, she goes in to her room and pushes the door closed.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, muttering a curse under his breath, then heads to bed himself.

Leon always slept with a gun or a knife under his pillow. Force of habit, and it was no different in her house. He's woken in the dead of night by a scream, its like flipping a switch and he's up. The scream turns in to 'LEON' and he grabs the gun under the pillow and is on his feet in a heartbeat. Shirtless and in sweatpants, he pulls open the door and stalks down the corridor with his gun raised. "Ana?!" He calls out to her, expecting to find – God knows what.

"Leon!" she calls back. His heart thuds and he reaches her door, putting his hand on it he prepares himself then crashes inside, ready to fire.

Instead, he finds her standing on her bed, backed up against the wall. She goes wide eyed when she sees his gun and snaps at him. "What's that for?!"

"You were screaming!" He exclaims, looking around.

"Well its huge!"

"What's huge?!"

"I think it went under my bed!"

"What? What went under your bed?"

"A spider!"

He stops in his tracks and lowers his weapon, looking at her like she just grew another head. "Seriously?"

"I woke up with it ON MY FACE!" She says desperately, "I hit it off and it ran under my bed. I cant.. I cannot deal with spiders.. please.."

The withering look he gives her. Moving over to the dresser Leon puts the gun down and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "Woman you live on a ranch, how do you not cope with spiders?"

With that he's on his knees, searching under her bed for the culprit.

"Its a mutant spider.." she half jokes, "I mean, this is the grandaddy of spiders.."

He rolls his eyes, poking around until suddenly the thing shoots out from under a small pile of magazines and right up his arm. It's not his proudest moment, but he lets out a yell of his own and scrambles back, shaking his arm off and getting to his feet, he grabs a book on the dresser and brings it down heavily over the critter, annihilating it.

Silence.

She's staring at him. "What? It ran up my arm.."

"You scream like a girl." She tells him with a laugh. He eyes her sideways and then makes a grab for her, making her squeak and burst into giggles as he wrestles her into a headlock and ruffles her hair.

"I saved you."

"My hero." She squirms and chuckles.

"Then never speak of that again."

"I promise, girlscouts honor."

He releases her and gives her an amused grin, sitting on the edge of the bed as she sorts out her hair and settles in to a kneel beside him.

"You were a girl scout?"

"Uh huh, not for very long." She nods, bringing her knee up to rest her chin on it. Hugging her arms around her leg. "But I can make a fire by rubbing two sticks together."

"Oh yeah? I usually just use a lighter."

She rolls her eyes. "Mr Adventure man, I would have thought that would be one of your many skills."

"It is. But why make life harder on yourself?" He shrugs.

"Sorry I woke you up, but thanks for coming to my rescue. I can't stand spiders."

"I think you just wanted to get me in your room."

"In my bed.." she laughs.

God she was beautiful. "Well, you did say.. just for tonight."

"I did." She answers softly. Lowering her leg down she gently bites her lip and the distance between them narrows.

The logical side of him rings every alarm bell he has. But there's a fierce internal argument. If she understood.. one night, couldn't hurt.

"You sure?" he asks in a low rumble.

She doesn't say anything, she just leans in to him and lightly brushes her lips over his. It's a thunderbolt straight to his groin, and the argument in his head in short lived. He turns toward her and lifts his hands, cupping her face in his palms and bringing her into the sweetest kiss. The sound she makes, a gentle mew of need and want, its a shot to the heart. She moves closer and arches a slender leg over his thighs, settling in to his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands slide over the thin material of her tank top, reaching the sliver of bare skin between shorts and top, his fingertips tuck under the flimsy shirt and its his turn to rumble his want as his hands slip over bare skin.

It was a mystery of human chemistry, but some people felt like home.

She subconsciously rocks her hips against him and soon has that internal fire stoked in both of them. The material of his sweatpants doing very little to hide his arousal. The kiss pauses only for a breath of air, then returns as his wandering hands begin to tuck up that little top. Ana pulls back, lifting her arms for him to rid her of it. He throws the top aside and looks her over.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers. Her cheeks flush and she runs her hands over his chest while his find their way back to her hips, assisting the slow teasing grind against him. She doesn't need the encouragement and his palms soon find their way to her perfect breasts, he takes two needy handfuls and lowers his lips to her neck. She tilts her head to give him access, softly moaning and leaning back a little further as his kisses trail their way downward. Her head falls back as his tongue traces over needy flesh.

Bracing one hand against his thigh, she runs her palm of her other over the hard outline of his dick in his sweats, making him growl and bring his mouth to her neck where he kisses hungrily, leaving his mark. He didn't want to rush, but at the same time felt like if he wasn't inside her soon he might unravel or go mad, or both.

His battle calloused hands move to grip her ass and she doesn't make a sound as he lifts her and turns, settling her on her back on the bed. Leon kisses a trail southward and she arches a little, closing her eyes, forming an enticing, slender shape with her dancers body. He wanted every inch of her, his fingers slip in to the elastic of her shorts and he peels them down those magnificent legs. She sits up to meet him in a fierce kiss that sees her hands pushing at the waist of his sweats.

As the kiss breaks she sinks back and watches him move over her, he moved with the predatory grace of a jungle cat. Pushing her thighs apart with his knees he kisses up between her breasts and returns to her lips while his fingers move confidently south and touch that most sensitive of spots. She breaks away from his kiss and lets out a moan as he touches her. He watches her face, studying her reactions like a soldier surveying a territory. He soon has her chest heaving, her breathing ragged, and suddenly her eyes snap open and she tucks her hand into his hair, drawing him back to her mouth for a desperate kiss.

Her legs wrap around him and she mews "fuck me" as her lips brush against his cheek. She did not need to ask him twice.

He guides himself to her slick warmth and there's no going back, with a steady push of his hips he sinks inside and his breath catches in his throat, she felt so damn good he takes a moment to get his bearings and keep from just losing it right there and then.. boy would that be uneventful. He brings his lips back to hers and brushes her hair back from her face, rocking his hips gently to sink deeper, inch by inch. Her moans told him she was okay, and once he's buried inside her he slips a hand to her thigh, gripping it tight to give him leverage as he begins to thrust. Slow at first, savoring how she felt around him, like tight wet velvet. But soon the pace builds, and he tucks that leg behind his arm, a steady rhythm, long deep strokes. The kiss broken out of need to breathe, he gazes down at her face as he steadily fucks her.

He can't help but curse under his breath as she arches that beautiful body beneath him, what a sight. His hand leaves her thigh and comes to her breast, his mouth moving to join it, lightly sucking on her nipple as his hips do the work. Then he lowers himself down, tucking his hands down to grab her ass for extra leverage, and burying his face in her neck, he works on blowing her mind.

His growls of effort match her cries and the sound of skin meeting skin in the room. Faster, harder, he grits his teeth and pounds her until her legs tremble and her nails dig into his ribs, her loud, desperate cry and the way her whole body jerks makes him pretty sure she came. So he slows it down, lifting his head to see her flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression. "You okay?" he chuckles in a panted breath, thrusting slowly now, gently, letting her recover.

The stamina of a soldier was something else, she learns that this night. But if this was to be their one and only night together, then she was going to enjoy every second of it. Her fingers curled tight around the base of his neck while her other fingers dragged over his hip and ribs. This man was going to be the ruin of her and she welcomed it. Slow and sweet, harder and more aggressive. He switched with ease and she eagerly took what he had to give. As he takes her to the crest of a wave of pleasure once again, she feels his pacing change and his movement become a little more erratic. Clawing a hand down his back she moans against his ear for him to fall with her. And he does. A feral growl against her ear as he buries himself deep with one last snap of his hips and gives himself over to that blissful release.

She clings to him. Eyes closing, cradling his body against hers. If they never had to move again, she would be just fine with that.

If morning never came, and the world ended right now. They'd both die happy.

But time was the cruellest master.


	6. Ice and Fire

**Authors Note:** Brace yourselves, it's starting to get messy. Very slight spoilers for Resident Evil 7 here. Beware.

* * *

 **When I felt numb**  
 **And so hollow inside**  
 **You carried me through it all**  
 **Across the divide**

 **You were strong**  
 **And so hopeful inside**  
 **Saved this fallen one**  
 **When I wanted to die**

 **\- Device**

* * *

For one single, beautiful night she knew how it felt to be his. He made her feel like they were the only two people on earth, that nothing and nobody but them mattered. He was a dangerous mix of power and intensity, yet he was able to touch her with such a gentle care it almost seemed like a dream. Like she'd imagined him, thought him up and somehow brought him to life for a blissful but painfully short amount of time. But she knew that when the morning came it was the end. She knew, and he knew. From the moment she woke up and found the bed empty beside her, the cold reality of their impossible situation sunk in. She wanted to cry, mourn what was about to be lost. But he was getting ready to look death in the eye and if he showed no fear then she couldn't either.

There's something different about him that morning. A look in his eyes, a shift in his demeanour. Something calculated to his every movement. It's like he's lighter on his feet, moving with the quiet grace of a stealthy predator as he gathers things together and prepares. The snap of metal against metal as he checks his guns and loads the clips makes little shivers run up and down her spine. She doesn't say much and neither does he, anything said would just make the whole morning harder. But she feeds him, making a quip about a one man army marching on its stomach. He's grateful, polite, but focused. Last night might as well not have happened, but this was no time to get hung up on sentiment.

It's only as they go to leave the house, that the Leon she'd known for the past two weeks returns. Stopping her in the doorway and for a moment just gently holding her arm. She holds her breath, searching his eyes and waiting for him to say something about last night. Waiting for him to tell her that he'd fight his way back to her one way or another, that he wanted to. But instead, "When we get in to town and I make contact, I want you to go."

She blinks, staring in to his eyes. They were the same shade as Azure, a grey with a blue hint to them and a glint of gunmetal. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then his told a story not many could live with.

"They can't know about you. They can't meet you, see you, know your name. Nothing. You understand? I just need you to leave."

She licks her suddenly dry lips and for some reason puts up the tiniest argument, "well what are you going to tell them?"

"That some farmer took care of me."

Ouch. Even though she knew it wasn't a personal slight and in fact was to keep her safe, it still hurt.

"I need to know you're safe, else I can't focus." He adds, and it fits in to some empty little place that had been carved out in her heart. She understood. She might not like it, but she understood. It was strange, though. Some part of her felt like she was willing to risk it all, willing to be a potential target, willing to face the monsters and the demons, just to be with him. Maybe it was silly, after only two weeks. But saving a man's life maybe made you care more than you would in other circumstances. Looking at him now, he didn't seem like the kind of man that would ever need saving. Holding himself with a renewed poise that screamed confidence in his ability to just get shit done. It was admirable, it left her in a kind of awe. Whatever the reasons that kept them apart, he was way out of her league anyway. What did she have to offer a man like him? Just a country girl, she couldn't even handle a spider.

The truck starts with a protest or two but they're soon on their way, the drive – like the morning – was quiet. She doesn't push a conversation, she doesn't ask him about the file in his lap. She wanted him to live, and if he had to focus to do that then she was going to let him.

They reach the town after almost an hours drive, they really were miles from civilisation and the Lazy J just 25 miles away wasn't going to cut it for what he needed. She parks in a small parking lot around the back of a tiny church and quiets the engine, turning to face him. "This is it, not much here, but there's a bar across the street and I expect they'll let you charge it there." She explains quietly, glancing at the dead phone in his lap. He simply nods. Then looks to her, all business. "The guns I dragged out of the chopper, I left them on the rack in that room off your kitchen. Hold on to them."

She purses her lips, frowning a little. No idea what she'd do with them but she supposed he had all he could carry in his holsters. She simply nods, tucking some of her hair back behind her ear.

"Be safe out there, okay?" she says quietly and the tiniest smile turns up the corners of his lips, he gives her a small nod in return. Silence stretches between them as his hand rests on the handle to open the door, she notices the hesitation, its oddly comforting. Then suddenly they both say one another's names at the exact same time, then laugh in the wake of it.

When the laughter fades, he twists in his seat and leans over to her, cupping her cheek in his palm and offering the most gentle kiss she'd ever been a part of, like he was afraid she'd shatter if he pressed too hard. She returns it, closing her eyes, hanging on to this moment for as long as she can.

Then just like that, he's gone.

* * *

Bars drew Leon Kennedy like a flame draws a moth, he's across the street and through its door and the first thing he does is ask the bar tender for a triple shot of whatever the strongest whiskey he had was, with a single cube of ice. He hadn't had a drink since the night of the crash and even though you weren't supposed to drink on duty, he wasn't on duty yet, so fuck it.

He takes a seat right there and sets the file and his silver case down in front of him, the barman gives him his glass and while he's tempted to down it, he doesn't. He might need the burn of alcohol to douse the urge to go back to her and disappear off of the governments radar forever, but he didn't want to get trashed before whatever awaited him in Alaska. If they still even sent him there, for all he knew he was headed straight in to a disciplinary hearing. Maybe they'd fire him. He wouldn't really be disappointed if they did.

"Hey buddy," he draws the bar tenders attention after a swig of his drink, "You got a phone charger around here?"

"We're not a charging station man.."

Leon sighs, "you got power outlets."

"Sure."

"You got a cable for yours?" he gestures to the barmans phone sitting behind the counter.

"That's mine."

Leon draws his DSO ID from his leather jacket, flipping it open and showing it to him. "Government business, I'd really appreciate you letting me use it."

The man pales and stammers and is suddenly the most helpful person alive. He sorts the lead out and Leon plugs the device in, setting it down and sighing. He wasn't turning it on yet, let it charge, let him enjoy his drink and be a free man just a little while longer.

30 minutes later the glass is drained, the ice is melted, and the phones screen lights up with a message telling him it was at full power. He unplugs it and thanks the barman, getting up from his seat and taking the phone through to the restroom. Locking it up, he switches it on.

A moment later, Hunnigan's familiar face fills the screen. She'd been his handler almost as long as he'd been in the job.

"Leon!"

"Hey stranger."

"Where the hell are you?!"

"A small town in Montana, you should be able to track my location off this signal, right?"

"Of course, what the hell happened? Where have you been?!"

"Freak accident, the chopper the BSAA sent me out on got hit by lightning over a mountain range, I'm the only survivor, you need to inform the agency."

"My God, we knew something had happened, we lost your signal heading out there thanks to the storm but I guess we've been looking in all the wrong places. Things have been... kinda hectic around here."

He arches an eyebrow, "They have?"

"This event in Alaska, it's proving to be a lot harder to get under control than anybody anticipated. They've sent some of the best Field Agents out there. We lost contact with Alpha Team two days ago, Bravo Team are three men down and trapped underground. The BSAA sent out a third team headed up by Jill Valentine.."

"Valentine?" he remarks, "they must be in some deep shit."

"That's putting it mildly. The upper levels of the research facility are a total loss, an entire town was evacuated to a hotel in the mountains and according to Jill, half of that hotel is now infected. There's civilians stuck in the basement and worst of all, they sent Rebecca Chambers out there when the parasite was first discovered and as far as we know she's stuck with two other scientists deep underground, there was meant to be an escape route from the research facility in to the town, but apparently something blocked it. Jill and her team are clearing out the hotel to get to the survivors, but its a super slow process, the way the parasite spreads makes it really hard to progress quickly. You don't know if you're dealing with the infected or a regular civilian until you're close enough for it to explode on you."

"Great. So they're having to check in with everybody they meet?"

"Kinda, there's next to no indication they're infected. Jill's been using a thermal scope on her rifle to try and gauge body temperature as the parasite significantly lowers it. But, it's Alaska.."

"Everyone's fucking cold." He finishes.

"Right. We also need to extract Rebecca and Bravo team."

He sighs, "How did this manage to go sideways so damn fast? The last report I have said it was isolated to the upper level of the research facility and a handful of people."

"Someone took it out of there."

"Typical. So we have a power player in the mix somewhere? Someone wants this shit on the streets?"

"Well, you're not going to like this Leon, but there was chatter intercepted over radio that mentioned the name.. Saddler."

His eyebrows shoot up, "What?!"

"We don't know yet if there's any relation to Osmand Saddler or his cult, or if its just a coincidence. But lets just say we're approaching with extreme caution."

"This parasite sounds like exactly the kind of thing Saddler and his goons would get the hots for. But he's dead. Unless..." he didn't even want to think about it. Shaking his head, he changes the subject, "So I guess now isn't the time to ask for a vacation."

Hunnigan widens her eyes at him. As much as he wished he could be deadly serious, he sighs.

"I'm kidding."

"They need you, Leon. If you're alright after the crash then the sooner we can get you out there the sooner we can get this thing contained."

"I got you, come get me." He nods.

"Chris Redfield is already on his way."

"Sending the REALLY big guns, huh?" He smirks.

"He's actually not far from you, he's being re-routed on to an entirely different assignment though."

"You mean I don't get him as a date?"

"Its a busy week in Bio Terrorism. Louisiana is having it's own problems. A weaponised psychotropic mold and an insane scientist. Redfields on an extract, destroy and apprehend under Blue Umbrella."

Leon narrows his eyes. Blue Umbrella. That bunch of jokers were back in the game and Redfield and the BSAA were trusting them? Leon wouldn't trust Umbrella as far as he could conceivably spit Jupiter, no matter what color scheme they used for their logo.

"Chris should be there with his team within the next two hours. They'll take you to a rendezvous point and a second team will take you on to Alaska." She instructs.

"Sounds like a party."

"I'll let Jill know you're on your way."

He gives her a small smile. He and Valentine had met a handful of times, but he'd never had the opportunity to work with her. He was kinda intrigued by the prospect.

"Oh and Leon, I hope your night visions good."

"Huh?"

"Alaska is still in the depths of winter."

He scowls. "Endless night. Of course. Wouldn't be a party without the lights off."

Signing off, he draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes. This was going to be a royal clusterfuck, he could feel it. But at least there hadn't been too many questions about where he'd been for the last two weeks. No doubt he'd have endless reports to fill in once this job was over, but for now it seemed like everybody was chasing around after their tails trying to handle two major outbreaks at once. Louisiana didn't sound like a whole lot of fun either.

He could swear the cases of Bio Terrorism were just increasing, nobody had regular wars anymore, guns weren't enough. Everyone wanted to mutate and enhance shit. War was turning in to a freak show rather than a battlefield. It made it all seem so hopeless. Maybe he'd be a little more inclined to say fuck Alaska, let it burn, if there was nobody out there he knew. But Rebecca Chambers was a sweet girl, a brilliant mind and not much of a fighter. She didn't deserve to end up parasite food. Not to mention Jill Valentine, who despite his misgivings about the mission, he kinda looked forward to finally getting to work with. Chris had told him so much. If he was ice, she would definitely be fire.

Should make for quite a team.

* * *

It was the longest two hours of his life. He was officially back on duty and so the whiskey that lined the back of the bar just sat teasing him from afar. He was already counting down the seconds until this mission was over and he could drown it all in the bottom of a bottle. That wasn't the only thing on his mind, though. Try as he might, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to Ana. He hadn't said goodbye for a reason, he hated goodbyes. It felt final, and even though he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again, he did know he'd check up on her. Somehow.

He sits at a table at the back of the bar, nursing a coke for the sugar and hoping someone on one of these teams would have spare clothes, because he wasn't walking in to a blizzard and sub zero temperatures wearing just his leather jacket, some jeans and his boots. The concerns of Leon Kennedy were quite a thing.

"Wake up you slovenly git."

"Hey, if it ain't Captain High Hopes." Leon leans back in his chair, balancing it on its two rear legs and looking over his shoulder as the hulking figure of Chris Redfield crosses the bar toward him. Leon had drawn minimal looks from the locals, but Chris was in full combat gear, there were some wide eyes in the building.

"Finally decided to rejoin us in the land of the living, huh?" Chris reaches the side of the table and looks him over.

"What can I say, stranded in the mountains with a bum leg for two weeks and nobody cared enough to come find me."

"You can walk?"

"I can walk."

"Then come on, before this shit in Louisiana gets as out of control as Alaska."

Leon sighs, getting to his feet and leaving a tip for the bar tender. "Hope you got some clothes for me, I'm not dressed for the occasion."

He follows Chris out of the bar and he's hit instantly by the unmistakable sound of dual chopper blades. They break in to a jog and he ignores the sharp pain in his thigh from the as yet unhealed wound, he didn't have time for that.

It causes quite a stir in the small town, and he looks down at the watching people as they take off. He smiles a little, this would be a fond memory amidst all the crap.

"So whats in Louisiana?" he asks Redfield once they're in the air and on their way.

Chris punches something in to a tablet and turns it toward him, handing it over. Leon takes it and grimly reads the brief. Extract a civilian named Ethan Winters, apprehend a batshit scientist named Lucas Baker. More shadowy groups looking to weaponize biological organisms. It was almost becoming boring and predictable.

"It never ends," he says glumly, handing the tablet back to Chris.

"On the up side, we'd be out of a job if it did."

"Speak for yourself, you live for this shit."

"And you don't?" Chris challenges him.

"I could go a few months without having to run the risk of being infected with some mutating bullshit or ripped apart by giant monsters, yeah."

"But you'd be bored."

"Would I?"

"Once you're used to the adrenaline rush, its a hell of a thing to try and live without."

"Have you ever tried it?"

Chris shrugs, shaking his head. "Had a bout of amnesia that sidelined me for a while but even then, I felt like something was missing. This is what we do."

"And you don't want anything more?"

"Like what?"

Leon smirks. "Like I dunno, a life? Some roots? A family?"

Chris considers this for a time, then looks back to him with another small shrug. "You want to bring a family in to a world like this? When you know what's out there? When you know the whole worlds on a knife edge at any given moment?"

That was a good point. Leon clenches his jaw, staring at the metal floor beneath his feet and drowning temporarily in the loud din of the chopper blades.

"You wanna be alone forever?" He finally asks.

"I'm not alone."

"You're not?"

"No.. there's Jill. There's my brothers in arms. Even you, when you're not being an epic douchebag."

Leon smirks, "but my body won't keep you warm at night."

"So call Ada, if that's what you're worried about. Ada.. or Helena.. or Hunnigan. You've got women falling over themselves for you. I have no idea why, you're the ugliest motherfucker I ever seen."

Leon shoots him a look. "I'm serious. I asked you after New York, how much longer we could keep on doing this. Neither of us is getting any younger."

"Now is not the time to be having those thoughts, Leon." Chris was right. It really wasn't.

Leon quiets, turning his head and looking out of the small portal window near to his head. Nothing but sky and mountains. Redfield interrupts his thoughts.

"So what are you saying, you want to retire? How old are you, 40?"

"Give it a few months." Leon looks back to the other man.

Chris frowns, staring at him. Then eventually, he shrugs. "So retire."

Leon snorts. "As if they'd actually allow that."

"Of course they'd allow that."

Leon eyes him sideways, lifting his hand to scratch the slight stubble under his chin. "Yeah, sure. Excuse me Mr President, I'm kinda sick of being your errand boy. I quit."

"Why not? I mean, maybe don't word it like that."

Leon shakes his head, looking away again. "They'd never let me go. They'll never let any of us go. You think they want people that know the shit we know running around out there on the streets?"

"I think you've been reading up on too many conspiracies. This is a job, like any other. And if your hearts not in it then you don't belong out here."

Leon's jaw clenches and he does his best not to take a large amount of offense to that. "I can do my fucking job."

"I wasn't questioning that, even on your worst day you're better than 98% of the operatives in any squad in the world. You are that damn good." A rare compliment from Redfield, but somehow the other man kinda felt like Kennedy needed to hear it. He'd been despondent in New York, questioning what the point of it all was. He seemed in the same mindset now.

"Next to Jill Valentine and Sheva Alomar there's nobody else I'd rather hear was coming out to fight at my side, even if you're an annoying little pissant with the worlds biggest chip on his shoulder." He had to throw in the jab somewhere. "But people are relieved when they hear you're riding in to town. You're the right fucking hand of the President for a reason. Jill's exact words when we told her we were bringing you in? 'Thank God'. You're valued, you're damn good at what you do. One of the best. And people trust you."

Leon gazes at him.

"But if you want out, then you should go. Because sooner or later you'll question it at the wrong fucking time and.." He snaps his fingers.

Leon looks away. The man was right.

"I don't know. I don't see them letting me go out in anything but a bodybag."

"Thats just because that's the only way you've ever seen one of us go out." It was a grim truth. "You'll probably have to sign your bodyweight in confidentiality agreements and waivers and shit, but its a job. If you don't want to do it until you're dead. Don't."

Leon considers this, silent for a while. Then looks back to the musclebound man. "You're in this until it kills you?"

"Or my body gives out." Redfield nods.

"That's so fucking depressing.. and so fucking like you." Leon smirks.

"Hey, I'm sure you'd have a stellar career as an underwear model awaiting you, you fucking pretty boy." Redfield counters with a gleam in his eye.

"Go fuck yourself."

It's good humored, and it felt good to laugh. He'd miss this part.

He's dropped off at a private airfield on the Canadian border, stopping only long enough for Leon and Chris to shake hands and wish each other luck on the respective jaunts in to possible death. He's given a minute to change in to proper combat gear, stuff that actually fits him. In ten minutes he has on black combats, a close fitting black tactical shirt, a tactical vest, holsters in every available spot and best of all, a bigass fur coat. It was Alaska after all. The coat might be bulky but his draw time would still be better than most and if parasites exploded out of people when you got near to them, he'd rather have some good coverage. Ear piece in, guns fully loaded, clips everywhere. He's Leon Kennedy, harbinger of death.

Back in his element, where people spoke to him with respect and almost reverence – except for people like Chris. It felt good, it always put him in the zone. Back on a new chopper, the flight to Alaska is longer than the quick crossover with Redfield. Time to eat some energy bars, drink a bunch of water, get to know the small crew he was heading in with. As they near the dropoff, he's handed a radio.

"Took you long enough."

"Chris and I had a hot date." He responds to Jill Valentine as she comes over the comms.

"Oh did you? I hope you paid." She sounds amused in her response.

"Obviously, I'm a gentleman. I hear you got yourself in to a spot of bother and you need a hero to come save you."

"Oh fuck off." Jill laughs.

"I can do that."

"You're the worst."

"So they tell me."

"Just get your ass up here."

"Where you holding out?"

"When you land, look toward the mountains in the south, theres snow everywhere as theres been nobody on the streets to clear them, but you'll see the hotel, you can't miss it, its size of four mansions. Looks like something out of a horror movie."

"Story of our lives." he says grimly.

"There'll be infected on the streets, so be careful. You want to keep at least 8ft between you and them at all times. Some of them are starting to look like shit, and you can pick them out. Others, it's really hard to tell if they're a legitimate civilian asking for help.."

"They talk?"

"They talk. It's like the parasite takes over their body but not all of their mind. They ask for help, just.. look out for weird body movements. The longer this goes on the more I've noticed some of them kinda.. jerk."

"I'm going to find the scientist that dug this shit out of the ice and I'm gonna bitch slap him. If he's not already dead."

"Unfortunately, I think he was one of the first to go."

Leon makes a face.

"Get up here. We need to evacuate the civilians in the basement to the airfield, theres a bomb shelter we have under lockdown, they'll be tested and sent out of here. Then, we go get Rebecca."

"Shes under the facility, right?"

"Right. Something happened down there, an explosion of some kind. It blocked their route out and we lost contact with Alpha Team. I think they're dead. It wasn't an accidental explosion either, it was done on purpose. Someone is trying to take this thing out of here. Luckily they have a shit ton of ice and snow to contend with, no roads outta here and we control the only airfield."

"Well thats some good news. But that means someones gonna be making a move at some point."

"Right. So we need to get this done fast."

"Its taken you two weeks already."

"Fuck off. I got here yesterday, and we can only evac in handfuls. It's too dangerous to pull out the whole group."

Leon sighs. "And all the lights are off, they turn out the sun here for winter."

"Yep, so bring a torch. The powers out in much of the town."

"Woop-de-fuckin do."

"Valentine out."

He slips the radio into his belt and addresses the small team he's with, telling them what he expects of them. No fuck ups, is the short version.

They land and Jill wasn't wrong, about a half mile away up a steep hill, a gothic looking hotel cast a shadow against the mountains. It was huge, sprawling, and he can't help but wonder why such a remote town would need such a massive hotel. Until he's informed it has more uses than just hotel, it's a venue for the whole town, meeting point, even stores. They packed everything in under one roof. Interesting.

He pulls out his gun and his torch, holding them crossed at the wrist, braces against the sleet whipping his hair back from his face, and breaks in to a jog through the snow. His team an echo behind him.


	7. Bring on the Night

**Authors Note:** Violence, lots of it. And we're not even at the main thread of the story yet! Miles to go before we sleep, hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **You are not forgotten**  
 **I am standing by your side**  
 **Your struggle makes you Beautiful**  
 **Out of Hell we will climb**

 **\- In This Moment**

* * *

Despite the snow it wasn't as pitch dark as Leon had feared it would be. Now and again the moon managed to work its way through the clouds and bathe everything in a haunting, silvery glow. It meant shadows crept out on all sides and he felt like every one of his senses were set to alert, just waiting for that moment this big ugly outbreak would rear its head. Freakin' ice parasites, who goes digging for this shit? As the thought runs through his head an unfamiliar sound stops him in his tracks and he holds up a hand, stopping the small team behind him. His clenched fist means silence, don't even breathe.

He could feel it. Whether or not he'd gotten a mysterious sixth sense for this shit or not he didn't know, but he could feel it. Like a creeping cold across the back of his neck.

To the left something rattles and instantly Leon has his gun tracking the noise, his flashlight held steady. Could be a rat, could be a fucking bear. Could be a parasite infested civilian looking for a hug. Or it could be someone genuinely in need of help, there were still some around, apparently. People always ran in panic and thought they could go it alone, very few of those people made it out alive.

The silence was deafening and tiny snowflakes hit his eyelashes, an annoying distraction, along with the wispy cloud his breath made in the cold. These were the absolute worst conditions to be navigating a plague in. He feels every hair on his arm prickle and as he does, the sound comes again, a chain clinking against metal. Then he sees it, the shadow moves and from behind an overturned ice fishing boat, a figure staggers.

Female. Dark hair. She was clutching her arm like she was injured and he clenches his teeth, watching. Jill said jerky movements. So far, none. She had on a jacket and jeans and she looked pale and petrified.

"Help me."

Her voice runs a shiver down his spine. Behind him, his team shift a little uncomfortably. Don't bug out now, boys. Leon holds position and doesn't take his gun or torch off of her as she continues to shuffle toward them. "I'm going to need you to stay right there, ma'am." His voice is commanding, anyone in their right mind would obey it. But often panicking people weren't in their right minds. He had a serious decision to make right here.

"Please, I'm so cold." She sobs, the tears on her cheeks were freezing. Hypothermia could send people loopy, confusion and disorientation would set in. Shit. Was she for real? He didn't trust it.

"Stay right where you are." He repeats. "I need you to tell me your name." As he says this he lifts a hand again and the gesture tells his team to step back. He does the same, the 8ft distance Jill had suggested was being closed in on. "Stay where you are!" He raises his voice, though he didn't want to attract even more attention. "Your name!"

"Allison.." she cries, "please.."

"Shit.." he mutters. He's considering his options when he notices one out of the ordinary thing as she lifts her foot from the snow. She wasn't wearing any fucking shoes. "BACK!" He orders with renewed resolve, then her arm twitches in the most freakish, inhuman way and he fires a shot between the eyes instantly. She drops where she stands, blood splattering across the crisp white snow. He begins to return to a normal stance and glances back at his team. "Well, I guess now we know what to look out for."

There's a sudden ear splitting screech and he whips his head back around to see the girl getting back to her feet. Bullet hole pouring blood between her eyes. Now she looked angry. Possessed, was a good word. Leon and the entire team open fire as she lunges toward them like a screaming banshee, and nothing takes her down. Backing up to keep the distance Leon touches the ear piece to open up the comms. "Jill?!"

"Leon!"

"How the fuck do these things go down?!"

"Shoot them in the heart!"

His aim is instant and he takes the shot. She collapses face first into the snow. "That's fucking new." He comments as he keeps his gun trained on the now motionless and silent body.

"The parasite infects the heart. Don't know how it works, why, how they control from there but.. it must be. Shots to the heart are all that have worked so far."

"Whatever this is its got a whole new set of rules." He huffs. Destroying the brain was usually foolproof, it took out anything.

"Yep, we've all been learning as we go along."

He lowers his hand from the ear piece and finally lowers his gun, looking back at the team with a nod. "Heart shots, only way they go down."

"Lets hope we don't encounter any in bulletproof vests then." One of his team mutters. Leon's eyebrows jump, he wasn't wrong.

After checking in with Jill that they were safe to approach it after it was down, he still moves with caution. Arriving beside the body and nudging it with his foot, he carefully eases the once pretty girl over on to her back. Her face was bloodied, that hole between her eyes was a beautiful shot. But useless. He holsters his gun for a moment and crouches down beside her, he wanted a better look at these things. He checks her eyes, which looked normal. No redness, no weird coloring at all. Her mouth, aside from being bloody, was normal. These things gave nothing away, it was like someone had engineered the perfect puppet master.

Had they? Was this really something that had been buried in ice for centuries?

The voice had been chilling, she'd begged them for help. Anybody that didn't know better would be taken in, would help her in an instant. And boom, they'd be infected. If this got out of here and in to a major city it would spiral out of control at light speed. This one was a game changer. And it was not leaving this fucking town.

Somewhere in the distance they hear another sound, like a few boxes being knocked down. He gets to his feet and signals to his team, they were not hanging around to play with this shit and they weren't much further from the hotel. Taking off at a faster pace, the going is rough. The snow getting deeper and the incline getting harder. He was in amazing shape, but the strain of running through snow takes its toll on his injured leg. He doesn't show it, but the pain streaked down his leg like little lightning bolts. At least it would keep him alert if he started to get tired.

This morning he'd woken up next to the warmth of the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. Now he was calf deep in snow and surrounded by death. The life of a DSO Agent was anything but predictable.

Reaching the doors of the hotel is like reaching some Transylvanian castle, at least it looked that way from the ground. It sprawled off in both directions and kinda looked like it was embedded in to the mountain. Lights were on in a few windows, but for the most part it was pitch dark. The door was barricaded and he lets Jill know they're there. It isn't long before they're allowed in. Once inside the huge lobby, the doors barricaded behind them again. Leon pulls his hood back and takes the place in. He'd never seen anything quite like it, it echoed when you talked. There were stairs that looked like the ones in Titanic, only they went up for four levels and then things disappeared in to darkness. To the right, signposts for stores. To the left, check in, the hotel itself. A chalk board with a menu on it for the hotels bar and restaurant. It oozed money, but old money. Like nothing had been fixed up in a really, really long time. He supposed in a place that was dark half the year and freezing cold, putting your entire town under one roof was a really good idea.

Not so great when there was an infectious parasite around, though.

Jill finishes up with the barricade and he offers her a nod and a smile as she walks toward him decked out like a warrior ice queen, the snow camo was a nice touch. He usually only ever saw her in business suits, in offices. Her ruined combat gear in Japan. And one time at a cookout he'd stopped by for at Claire's. She'd worn jeans and a tank top then. He remembered every detail about that, like he remembered every detail about everything. It had been his job to take in details for so long that now it was just second nature.

"Seems quiet." He remarks after the handshake, "was half expecting it to be a bloodbath in here."

"Not quite." Jill folds her arms, "we've been keeping things quiet, getting survivors out in groups of around eight at a time. If we stay quiet, we don't seem to attract their attention. But.. they're everywhere." She says ominously.

He glances upward, those keen senses of his on high alert.

"At this point as far as we know, survivors are all in one place. There's nobody left in here roaming free that's not infected. We kept a few in isolation to study and we figured out once they're infected, it takes about an hour for them to become infectious."

"You have been working hard," he looks back to her, "last I heard you were still sweeping the rooms."

"It's been a long 24 hours." She sighs.

He could sympathise there. These missions came with very few opportunities to sleep.

"If you and your team need to get some shut eye then just show me where everything is, we can take over evac for a few hours." He offers.

She shakes her head, which is exactly what he would have done. Once you started, you finished.

That decided, they get to work. Its a long and tedious task. But with two teams now they could do it twice as fast. They had over 100 people left to move. Keeping them stealthy was interesting, as they attempted to make the smallest amount of noise possible. Not a problem for Leon, he was a ghost when he needed to be. But you try telling scared teenagers and exhausted adults or women carrying babies to tread lightly.

The heart shots work. Swift, easy. Though the cries of the infected are haunting. They pleaded for help, begged for their lives. They fooled many of the survivors in to telling them they should help them. But he trusted Jill when she said anything not in the basement was one of them. So they went down like ducks at the fair.

Out of the basement, to the lobby, to a bus, to the airfield. Back and forth.

They're returning from a drop off when he checks his watch, it was almost 5am. Usually there'd be dawn breaking, the sky would be an ocean of brilliant water colors. But out here? Nothing. The ominous darkness remained, shrouding them in its cloak and quiet. The last group would be Jills, so as he and his team take the steps back up to the hotel doors, he's already thinking about the next move. They needed to extract Rebecca. Find a way down in to the research facility. So far, this had all been pretty straightforward.

So naturally, that's when everything goes to shit.

His foot hits the top step and the gunfire starts. Not just one round, but many, the flashes from the shots lit up in the windows and in an instant his weapon is drawn and he's racing to the door, hammering on it. It was barricaded. "JILL?" He yells through them as the gunfire goes on. There's screaming, panic and crazed banshee shrieks. He sidesteps to the window to look in and as he does a splash of blood hits the pane. What the fuck happened?

Signalling his team three of them slam in to that door, ramming it with everything they have as the sounds of insanity build inside. They can hear the barricade giving, and eventually it tumbles away and they can open the doors. Inside, chaos.

They were everywhere. It was like the infected had organized an attack. Flanked Jill and her crew and then plain outnumbered them. Its a scene that would make any normal human being freeze in horror, but there's no time for that.

Leon vaults the remaining boxes in the way of the door and starts firing off shots. The only people he trusted wore BSAA Snow Camo. Keeping distance was hard, and he finds out first hand how the parasites spread. They burst from the skin of the infected like small barbed arrows, it was macabre and terrifying. His coat and leather gloves become his best friend. Dodge, duck, run. Shoot.

They just kept coming. An organized, vicious assault that takes his breath away. He was good, he was really fucking good at this and they were out working him handily. He loses track of the others as bodies swarm the lobby and dodging barbs becomes the number one priority. At least they only seemed to be able to do it once, though he had no idea if they 'recharged' as time went on. He kicks one square in the face from his standpoint on top of the check in desk, shattering a jaw in a spray of blood and staggering the former human sideways, he follows it with a shot to the heart.

Again.

Again.

They keep coming.

He jumps over the head of one that lunges at him, lands and rolls to a knee then fires a shot behind him right into its heart. His free hand pulls his combat knife from its sheath and he flips it in his palm and then charges forward to his feet to bury it in the chest of another. He ducks and shoots one to his right, then slices the back of the knees of one in front of him so it topples forward, he presses the muzzle of his gun to its back and fires a shot through the heart.

Rearing back to his feet he's swarmed, he's in full survival mode.

He fires three shots in to three hearts and surges forward, he found taking out tendons in legs worked well in a pinch. It didn't kill them, but it took them down off their feet. With the swarm that had surrounded him finally taken care of he then falls back, tucking in to reload everything behind a pillar. His breath coming in heavy pants. Out of the corner of his eye he sees one of his team writhing on the floor. Infected. He could see the puncture wound in his neck. "Fuck." He hisses, slamming a new clip in his Desert Eagle. As he does this, his former team member scrambles to his feet, screaming. He charges right at Leon. He lets off two shots, both to the head to knock him down and then he pins him with his boot by the throat, rips away his vest and shoots him point blank in the heart.

No time for sorry. He rolls backwards as one lunges at him and then to his feet, another shot. Another body littering the floor. He clears the area in front of him with his back to a wall and then suddenly Jill Valentine arrives at his side. A glance at each other, backs to the wall, they unleash round after round in to an endless onslaught of screaming, infected lunatics.

"They're organized. They planned this." He yells above the din.

"You noticed that too huh?"

"So either someone's controlling them or.."

"Some _thing_."

They were going to run out of ammo.

"This place is done." He pushes away from the wall, "lets go."

There was no saving this. They were going to run out of ammunition and they were going to die if they didn't fall back. As much as he hated admitting defeat, this was impossible. Jill yells orders in to her ear piece, but there's nobody left. Nobody but them. They were royally fucked.

With a frustrated yell Jill hurls a vase at a child no older than 6 or 8 that runs at her a shrieking nightmare. The vase knocks the small girl down as Jill bolts past. Killing kids was rough, he gets it. "GO!" He's right behind her as they bolt through the lobby and vault the stacked boxes and through the gap in the main doors to the outside. They roll to their feet and look back, weapons raised. From here they could pick them off, but what's the point? They do what they hated to do the most. They run. The hotel was lost.

Taking the snowy steps two at a time, they spot a literal herd of what had to be the infected coming up the path toward them. The undead often hoarded, but it was mindless. They went by scent. This seemed like a group of people that had been told where to go and what to do, suddenly moving like a flock of birds. It was unnerving to say the least. He stops and narrows his eyes, watching them, the mayhem still unfolding behind them. He hears windows smash, they were trying to break out. They were giving chase.

"Lets GO!" Jill grabs his jacket arm and tugs him.

Together they jump a hedgerow and take off across the grounds, away from the path. Into the darkness, into deeper snow. But if the going was hard for two people in peak physical condition, it had to be as bad if not worse for people not in control of their own bodies.

"This is where we get picked off by a fucking bear," he grumbles as they fight there way through snow drifts, brambles and bushes. But at least the noise of the crowd seemed to be fading away behind them.

"Leon 'Optimist' Kennedy," she says scathingly, shoving a branch out of her way. He catches it as it swings back and ducks under. Looking back over his shoulder, he digs out his torch and briefly shines it. Nothing but mist and snow and bushes behind them. For now at least.

"What the fuck happened?" He asks as they pick their way through carefully.

"We were waiting for you and your team to come back. We were in the lobby. We didn't even hear them. Suddenly they were everywhere, on the stairs, jumping from the balcony above.." there's a shiver to her voice. But that kind of thing would shake even the toughest of people.

"So.. someone's in charge." He says again, trying to make sense of it. "An organized attack can only mean that. It's not mindless, like the undead."

"Not at all. They got in position, they waited for their moment, they were quiet.. and then.." she snaps her fingers quietly.

They break from the thick shrubbery and find themselves looking down over the town. It was small, nothing but shadows now. In the distance, the air field. He hoped to God or whoever was listening, that the survivors they'd gotten to the bomb shelter there weren't under attack too. Hopefully they'd be bright enough to not open up for anyone that didn't give the coded knock. This couldn't be a snowy Raccoon City, Tall Oaks or Lanshiang, he couldn't handle it. He couldn't lose them all. Not again.

They begin making their way down toward the main town, they needed to get out of the cold, needed shelter. Needed to get their shit together and reassess.

Guns drawn as they hit the snow covered streets, they creep around the backs of the small buildings. The sheriffs station seemed like the best bet. Straight in through the front doors. They sweep the small building on feather light feet. Neither of them making a sound as they go room to room. Finding nothing, they converge in the lobby and set to chaining the door shut with handcuffs. For now, they could catch their breath. But they still get out of sight of the windows, heading in to a back rec room where mercifully, they find water and junk food to snack on. Replenish some energy.

Jill flops on to a couch and closes her eyes for a moment. He leaves her to it, going to a table and getting in contact with Hunnigan. Its a grim conversation. He has to tell her both their squads are a total loss. That the hotel is a write off. They have approximately 190 survivors left in a bomb shelter, they're hoping to find more ammunition and maybe guns in the sheriffs station, and they have yet to even attempt the Research Facility.

But they would. They would get Rebecca out of this shithole.

It was looking more and more like once they had her and they'd gotten the survivors out, this place should be turned in to a crater. To make sure this thing was gone. He was still anxious about the idea that someone was pulling the strings and trying to just march this shit out of here. That couldn't happen.

Signing off from Hunnigan, he rubs his temples for a while. His day really went to shit. He can't help but briefly wonder what Ana was doing. Almost 8am now, she'd probably be getting up to tend to the animals. He longed for the tranquil peace of that barn. It seemed like so long ago.

Eventually he gets up and heads to the restrooms to take a piss. When he returns to the rec room Jill sits bolt upright and draws on him the second he comes through the door. Reflex. He holds his hands up and gives her a lazy smile. "I come in peace."

"Sorry," she sighs, holstering her weapon again, "I think I zoned out for a minute."

"Rest. We can take an hour." He crouches beside her, "I'll go raid the offices, see what they got we can rebuild our artillery with. See if I can get through to Rebecca, too."

"I should help you." She sounded exhausted.

"I'll be fine. You've been out here in this bullshit over 30 hours. Sleep. That's an order."

"You're not the boss of me," she jokes with a wry smile. He stands up and shrugs off his big coat. Draping it over her like a gentleman.

"I'm pulling rank. Presidents orders.. rest, woman."

Jill throws her arm over her eyes and mumbles, "I'm gonna tell Chris you said that."

He smiles, rolling his eyes and then leaving her side. There's no further protest from her and he shuts her in the rec room. Time to fleece this place.

As it turns out, an Alaskan wilderness doesn't see that much crime and so the station doesn't have a huge amount to offer. But he finds enough ammunition to see them through another battle or two. And two shotguns, one hunting rifle. It would do. Once he's salvaged everything he can he takes a seat at the front desk and begins fiddling with the radio, changing frequencies. Attempting to get through to Rebecca. If she was even still alive down there. After a whole lot of no success, he drops the radio and folds his arms on the desk in front of him, resting his forehead down on them and closing his eyes.

Get your shit together, Kennedy. Get up. Figure this out.

He briefly wonders how Chris' mission is going in Louisiana. Then he's on his feet, gathering the weapons together and heading back in to the rec room where Jills still sound asleep, so he takes it upon himself to distribute the ammunition he found. He's reloading his clips when she wakes up with a jolt, looking up at him wide eyed. That moment he knew well, jolting out of a nightmare no doubt. He greets her with a sympathetic smile from where he sat at the table. Once she realizes where she is, she groans and sits up. "How long was I out?"

"About an hour, was going to wake you when I got done here." He says, waving a clip slightly.

"Find anything good?" She asks, getting up and bringing his coat back to him.

"Shotgun each, enough ammunition to last us a while.. and we'll have to fight for the rifle."

"Oooh." She sounded way too excited about the rifle, picking it up and inspecting it. It makes him chuckle, like she was a kid with candy. She gives it a thorough going over and decides its hers. Fair enough.

"Y'know, you don't crack as many jokes as I was told you did." She says suddenly, placing the rifle down.

He slides the clip back in to one of his guns and looks up at her curiously.

"Chris.. well.. everybody actually. They all say on missions you're a wisecracking pain in the ass. But I don't think I've heard a single one." She returns the curious look.

"Oh.." he frowns, "I guess I haven't found very much funny about this situation."

"But all our other assignments are just gag fests." She shrugs, laughing herself.

He sighs. "Maybe I'm just..." He trails off and shakes his head, "I've had a weird few weeks. Off my gag game I guess."

"I feel robbed."

He eyes her sideways, holstering his gun and sitting back in his seat. "Well, see I aim to disappoint most women, so.."

That makes her laugh. "You're achieving it admirably."

"Score." He laughs softly.

"I guess this shit can make anybody lose their sense of humor after a while."

She says it, and it hangs in the air between them. It was just an inescapable truth. Maybe they had more in common than they thought. Maybe she was just as battle fatigued as he was. She'd been doing it even longer, as he recalled. He gives her an understanding nod and pushes over an energy bar he'd found. She needed to eat something, she still looked exhausted. "Keeping your sense of humor during a battle.. there's a bit of a snack to it." He deadpans.

The look she gives him as she takes the bar.

Worth it.

As she eats, he drains the last of his bottle of water and wishes it was whiskey. When its empty, he tosses it in the direction of the trash can, though it misses. Not like it mattered, not now.

Refreshed and a little rejuvenated, they gather their arsenal together and dig out a map of the town from behind the front desk. They didn't have far to go, if they stayed off the main streets and went around the back route, they should hopefully avoid being spotted by any of the infected. It was a flimsy plan, but it was all they had.

"You ready?" He asks, drawing his gun and leaning against the locked rear door.

"Lets do this." She nods. Back to All-Business-Valentine.

He twists the lock and pulls open the door. Jill takes point, headed out into the darkness. She doesn't get three steps outside when a screaming banshee hurls itself at her from the shadows. Jill's pushed back in to him with massive force and he crashes against the wall behind them, Jill landing heavily against him. It steals the breath from him. He throws an arm up to protect his face as the infected shoots its barbs.

"Fuck!" he fires three rounds in to the infected's heart with his arm around the body of Jill Valentine, "You!" He finishes as it hits the ground. He lowers his weapon and grabs Jill's shoulder with his other hand, she was slumped between his legs on the floor. "Jill?"

She doesn't answer him and his blood runs cold.

"Jill? You with me? Hey?" he pushes her up and struggles to his feet, grabbing the door and pulling it closed. Then turning her to face him. Her eyes were vacant and in her cheek, two small holes. He feels like he's going to throw up. "No.. don't you fucking do this. Not you. Jill?" He prays it was a different mark, she cut herself, maybe a twig or something from a bush. "Don't do this." He almost begs.

She suddenly focuses right on him and they aren't eyes he's familiar with.

"Jill?"

"Help me." She rasps, hands coming up to grasp at the collar of his bulky coat. He feels the hope slowly drain out of him, leaving nothing but a desperate cold.

"Do you know who I am?" He asks in an unsteady voice.

"Help me." She repeats.

She wasn't Jill.

"Fuck.. fuck... FUCK!" He scrambles away from her, dropping her to the floor and drawing his gun, he levels it on her. He had to shoot Jill fucking Valentine in the heart. He had to tell Chris Redfield he had to put down the person he loved the most. The only way any of them left this life was in a bodybag. he'd said that to Chris just yesterday. "STAY DOWN!" He yells at her, stalling. He presses his finger to the trigger as she reaches up for him, wailing, pleading with him for help.

What if this had a cure? What if brilliant, genius Rebecca had a cure? They'd neutralized the Las Plagas parasite that had invaded his body, maybe this one could be exterminated too. He couldn't shoot Jill Valentine. Not until he knew - for absolute certain - she was gone forever.

He darts past her and to the drawer behind the main desk, grabbing another pair of cuffs he comes back and clamps one around her wrist then attaches the other side to a solid pipe. Getting down on one knee, he takes her face in his hands, looking her in her vacant eyes. "I'm so sorry." He whispers as she writhes and wails and reaches for him, "I'll come back for you."

Either as savior or executioner.

He takes her guns, finding space for them in his jacket. She didn't need them anymore, though he feels like shit doing it. Leaving her with promises, he heads out in to the night with the vaguest plan he's ever had.

Time to be a hero.


	8. One Man Army

**Authors Note:** I wasn't intending on this section of the story going over more than a couple of chapters, but hey, these things tell themselves. Thanks for the follows and favorites, hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Keep holding on**  
 **When my brain's tickin' like a bomb**  
 **Guess the black thoughts have come again to get me**

 **\- Korn**

* * *

An angry Leon Kennedy was an extremely focused Leon Kennedy. What had happened back at the Sheriffs station had been nothing short of an ambush. That thing had been quietly waiting for them for who knows how long. The way it threw itself at Jill with such force the instant she stepped through that door, it wasn't the attack of a creature that was taken by surprise. There was no convincing him otherwise at this point, whatever this parasite was it was under someone's control. Experience told him there was a power player somewhere in this town, it was like playing chess against a Grand Master, every move he made they were three steps ahead.

"Lets see how you function without a head at all you son of a bitch," he snarls as he takes aim with his shotgun. The infected man's brains splatter across the powder white ground and the remaining body staggers forward a few feet then collapses. Disturbingly, it doesn't stop twitching or trying to move, but it can no longer see so it was as fucked as Leon felt. A back alley, snow covered gunfight with monsters was not how he'd pictured his day turning out, but here he was. The route between the Sheriffs station and the research facility was impossible, they were everywhere and they were looking for him. The further he got, the angrier he was getting. Every fibre of his being was at this point, deadly. It's slow progress, but he advances like the grim reaper himself, at this point he wasn't even thinking about a cure that could save some of these people. He wanted everybody dead. He wanted inside that research facility – to find Rebecca – to rescue Jill – and get the fuck out of here and never look back.

It was a dark mindset to be in. He no longer saw people. He no longer took in their features or their clothes or any of the usual things his brain just logged. He saw targets. The soon to be dead. He'd felt this before and it had taken him months to recover. After Spain, he hadn't left that place the same man he was when he walked in. If Raccoon City had started him on a path, Spain had shaped the killer he was to become. It had taken time and adjusting and even a few rounds of therapy for him to reconcile the dark places he'd gone in his head to make it through that. While he was reassured that the will to survive was never a bad thing, he feared what else he might be capable of if he could look at a human and see nothing but a bag of skin filled with something that needed to be eradicated. Without an ounce of sympathy for the person they used to be.

Time. Government ordered therapy. He hadn't been sent out on another mission for two months, the longest break he'd had between assignments. It had steeled him and up until now, he'd faced every other mission with an almost dismissive attitude. It was what it was. People got infected, they died. He completed his objectives and he went home, drowned himself in a few bottles of whiskey and then was good to go. Next. Line em up, knock em down. Monster Assassin. Nobody had ever been more accurate than Ana with that description.

But Alaska was inside his head and under his skin. He was dodging flying barbs that threatened to burrow in to his flesh and lodge themselves in his heart, breeding a parasite that was apparently a slave to some kind of master. He'd lost a whole team in a heartbeat – like D.C. He'd let Jill Valentine get infected. The weight of that sat so heavy on his shoulders that if he stopped to take it on it would break his spine clean in two. He wasn't telling Chris Redfield that she was dead. He wanted every last one of these things to burn and as he advances through the snow and ice he uses everything at his disposal to do it, including spearing one with a pitchfork and taking another's head off with an axe yanked from a tree stump. He kept the axe, tucking it in to his belt loop. It could be handy in a pinch.

His black combats were soaked through to knee level thanks to the snow, his once white heavy fleece arctic jacket was now streaked in dirt and blood. Under it, he wore a sheen of sweat despite the intense cold and to add to the discomfort, the wound in his leg throbbed and reminded him with every step that just two weeks ago he'd been in a helicopter crash, had a foot long shard of metal embedded to the bone and he'd almost died from infection. He shouldn't be at the top of his game, but here he was, defying the odds. Every shot lethal, every step determined.

"Its way past your bed time, motherfucker." He buries the axe from his belt in to the head of a boy he wouldn't estimate to be out of his teens just yet. Snarling and clawing. He'd noticed one thing, there were two kinds of infected. Some shot the barbs and infected others, but some seemed aggressive right off the bat, no barbs, just rage. He was beginning to form a theory here, but he wasn't banking on it. Theories got you killed if you were wrong.

Three precise rifle shots from a good distance, and he breaks in to a jog. His breath coming in measured pants as he finally spots the ice covered lake which signified the entrance to the research facility. He rounds a bend in a tree lined road and the nondescript white building suddenly looms ahead of him. He knew the facility was on six levels straight down. He didn't know how big it was once he got under the ground. Harvardville big? Probably. His pace slows and he swings the rifle back up, poised as he creeps toward it. He had no idea what was ahead, he knew there were two teams involved and stuck down there, likely dead, probably turned. The thought had occurred to him that if they were turned, they would be wearing tactical vests making that heart shot that much harder. He'd just have to relieve them of their heads.

Thinking like that.. if anyone else could see inside his mind they'd be terrified.

Reaching the door in to the facility he plucks a keycard he'd been given on his way in to this mess, the power was still on here, a backup generator was always a thing in a place like this. He swipes the card and the lock on the door clicks from red to green. His hand on the handle, he switches guns, letting the rifle swing to his side and bringing up his magnum. A deep breath, he opens the door and enters in a fluid movement, immediately sweeping the room. Empty. A kind of reception area, dull plastic chairs and a coffee table with magazines. A coffee machine and vending machine which flickered because of a dying bulb. He doesn't bother with the lights, the vending machines provided enough and switching on lights would draw anything lurking in his direction. Instead his torch comes up and its trusty beam guides his way. Through the reception, he vaults a desk and skims light over paperwork and the computer screen sitting there. Nothing useful. He proceeds on feather-light feet, a ghost in combat boots.

The next room is a mess, papers scattered, things broken. Something had gone down in here, a bloody hand print on the wall confirms it. Again he scans the surfaces for anything useful, information, anything. But he had a feeling it would all be deeper underground, this was all just admin bullshit. Three more offices with nothing of worth inside them other than a letter opener which might be useful for lock picking or perhaps stabbing something in the heart. He slips it in to his vest and keeps going. The elevator shows an error, not that he'd use it anyway. But that tells him wherever the explosion was it interfered with that. He's passing to the stairwell door when he notices a small guard station setup, complete with a handful of monitors. They were on and flickering.

Narrowing his eyes he creeps closer. Security cameras. One outside, two showed laboratories. Now this was potentially useful. Weapons holstered, he leans over and starts hitting keys on the keyboard in front of them. Sure enough, he switches the views. He had no idea what was what, there was no indication as to which levels or rooms they were. But it was something. He skips on and on, a couple of rooms have infected shuffling around. No sign of the teams he was here to find.

The screen flips again and he gets the best news he's had since he arrived in this god forsaken hell hole. He lets out a breath he felt like he'd been holding since he left Jill behind.

Rebecca was alive.

She sat on the floor of a laboratory with her knees drawn up and her arms around them. There were three other men in there with her, one in a lab coat still, two wearing dishevelled shirts and ties. The one in the lab coat was sat at a desk pouring over a computer screen. Rebecca looked exhausted, she'd been stuck down there almost two weeks at this point. The pang of guilt makes him bow his head for a moment, not that a lightning strike and infection was his fault, but this girl was surviving on what looked like vending machine sodas and snacks, stuck in a room with three guys she probably barely knew. That was on him, just like Jill. If only this fucking set up could tell him where she was. "Hang in there kiddo, I'm coming to getcha.." he murmurs, touching his fingers to the screen.

In to the stairwell, he trains his flashlight over the barrier and looks down. It only went two floors. Where were the stairs to the next levels? If they hadn't been able to get up here, then they weren't on the next two floors, they were deeper and something was blocking their path. He descends to the next level and peers through the window in the door. It led in to a corridor with labs branching off of it. Was it worth checking them? He dismisses the idea, if anyone in this building knew what was going on it would be Rebecca. She was his goal. As he moves down to the next level a putrid smell hits his nose as he nears the door in to the level. Rotting, stinking. His torch light shines on the floor in front of the door and the congealed pool of blood that leaked out from under it.

Game on.

He nears the door and angles himself to get a view through the window without stepping in the gore. The lights are off in there, pitch dark with no windows underground. He grits his teeth and brings up his torch light. The white light hits walking bodies, and all of them instantly turn to face him. Screeching, charging for the door. He backs up swiftly and the rifle comes up. They slam in to the door and it holds.

Well, he'd found Alpha and Bravo Team. Every one of them in bullet proof vests.

"Don't spose you guys wanna talk about this?" He mutters as they scream at him, hands clawing and banging at the luckily sturdy door.

Figure it out, Kennedy.

The door creaks and strains under the pressure of being battered by who knows how many bodies, it wouldn't hold for much longer so he needed to get his shit together quickly. There was no way around this, no other route, nothing. He was going through or he was going to die, so he steels himself to that fact and lowers the rifle, drawing the shotgun from it's spot tucked in at his back. He had to take their heads, it wouldn't kill them, but it would slow them down. Eventually they'd bleed out and there'd be nothing for the parasites to hold on to anyway.

For a man about to face a possible demise, he's shockingly calm. His heart rate steady, his adrenaline pumping. He makes sure everything he has on him is fully loaded then eyes the door. He'd open it, he'd start taking head shots. Advance, no fear. Fear got you killed.

"Alright, assholes. Lets play." He eyes the one right at the window in the door, reaching the keycard out to swipe the lock. He swipes, it clicks, he backs up as the door swings open and they charge. Shotgun shots ring out through the building.

If you asked him, he could never tell you how he made it through. The wave of bodies that wanted to rip him apart seemed relentless. He dodged barbs, the things lodging in his jacket rather than his skin. He shot round after round, ending up on his back as clawing hands dragged him down. The certainty set in that he was going to die as they swarmed around him, but adrenaline kept him fighting, kept him alive. He used his knife, he fought and clawed as hard as the monsters that wanted to kill him. When three grip his jacket and pull him to the ground again, he wriggles free from his coat. The protective jacket was lost. He couldn't think, panic suddenly gripping his heart as he lost his layer of protection. He surged to his feet and charged forward to the first door he saw, yanking it open. As his arm reaches out for that handle he feels it, the sharp pain in his forearm as a barb buried itself into his skin.

His hearts pounding as he throws himself through the door and in to what was nothing more than a supply closet. He turns, back against the wall, slamming the door and putting his foot up against it as fists and clawed hands begin to hammer on it. No time to think. He draws his combat knife and slices into his forearm. They weren't having him. With a yell of agony he cuts through skin and deep in to flesh, his blood quickly bubbling up and trickling to the tiled floor below. He gouges, twists, and finds it. With clenched teeth he growls through them as he tears the barb free. It was not getting in to his veins, it was not getting to his heart.

He throws the black, half inch long parasite onto the floor and notices it was moving. Some logical part of his brain left functioning in the panic tells him they were activated by hitting the warmth of blood. It just made sense. It flails around on the floor in the growing pool of blood trickling from his arm. He braces the door with his hands and stamps on it, then lifts his foot back up. They were still hammering on that door. How many were even left?

A fury he'd never felt before takes hold of him as his warm blood seeps through his fingers. Glaring at the door and the pounding fists on the other side.

"I'M NOT DYING IN HERE!" He roars at them, "YOU HEAR ME?!" He slams his foot against the door repeatedly in response to their hammering, "I'M KILLING EVERY ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, FUCK YOU!"

Panting, hands shaking, he scans the small closet for anything he could use to stem the bleeding. Nothing but papers and staplers, why should his luck change now? He leans down and picks up the knife he'd dropped, setting to cutting a strip of fabric from the arm of his shirt. He tears it free, wraps it around the wound. It's almost pointless, blood seeping straight through it. But it was something. Heart pounding, he undoes his belt, wrapping it slightly higher up his arm and using his teeth to pull it as tight as possible, he fixes it in place. It would have to do.

He notices as he does this and the door rattles and the things outside scream at him, that fear tasted metallic.

Knife sheathed, he lifts his hands to his face and for just a moment, completely loses it. Screaming in to his palms like a man possessed. When he can't scream any more, and his voice feels hoarse, he quiets. Dropping his head back against the wall and breathing heavily. His arm throbbed like a son of a bitch and the noise of the things on the other side of the door pounding their fists could drive a sane person crazy.

"Breathe." He tells himself, closing his eyes. His foot still braced, keeping them from bursting in on him.

What did he still have on him? He begins an inventory, he'd lost a few things with the jacket, but he still had the shotgun. He had shells for it. He wished he knew how many were left out there. He tries to count how many he'd taken out in his head, if he was right or even in the ballpark, there were around five more. Five, he could do this.

It's the longest pep talk he's ever given himself mid mission, but by the time it's done his hands are no longer shaking. He was not letting fear win, he was getting out of here or he was saving the last bullet for himself. Either way, he escaped. With his hand on the door handle he takes a few measured, deep breaths. Then he pulls it open.

The first one charges in and he sticks the shotgun up under its chin and fires. Blood, bone and brain splatter across the walls and in his face. It wasn't warm like blood should be, it was cold. The parasite seemed to drain a body of heat. The body falls and the next lunges at him. The muzzle of the shotgun hits the former BSAA agent between the eyes and he fires. More blood and brain matter splatters across his face. He wipes his hand across his eyes to clear them and sweeps his hair back, it stays there thanks to the blood. Surging forward, he buries his knife into the heart of what was once a scientist, another shot with the shotgun. Surge forward, fire, he yanks the axe from his belt, rolls over a desk and slices the head of the last clean off. It staggers and falls in to a leather desk chair, rolling away almost comically. He turns swiftly, eyes scanning the room for more. Axe clenched in his hands and his chest heaving each breath. There were bodies everywhere. Blood, gore, twitching corpses as the parasites tried to revive their headless hosts.

He was alive.

He drops to his knees, bracing the axe against the floor and leaning against it. He takes a moment, catching his breath and feeling the blood of the slain begin to congeal on his skin. His forearm throbbed with the tourniquet and his thigh felt like it was full of glass.

Get up.

He forces himself to his feet, slides the axe in to his belt loop, picks up the shotgun and reloads. That measured calm returning. He finds his dropped rifle amidst the bodies and also recovers his jacket, though it was a gore drenched mess now and not much use. He leaves it, heading through the body strewn corridor to the next stairwell. The rifle comes back up and he's moving like a ghost again, down a level and a corridor mercifully free of infected. He begins sweeping rooms. Nothing. Next level down, he takes out three wandering infected in lab coats, then comes up against a door that's braced by something.

"Rebecca?!" he calls out.

"LEON?!"

He's never felt so relieved to hear a woman's voice in his life. He hears the barricade being cleared and then door swings open, revealing the sweet little scientist, who's face falls at the sight of him and her hands come up to cover her mouth.

"Oh my gosh, Leon!"

"Sorry I didn't dress up for the occasion.." he gives her a weary smile and she pulls him in to the room, shutting the door behind them. He feels the eyes of the other three men on him instantly, but he can barely muster the will to acknowledge them.

"Sit.. my God." Rebecca fusses, getting him a chair. A big, comfy leather seat. He's hesitant, some of him wants to just keep going purely because he felt like if he stopped then everything would overwhelm him. But he was stronger than that. He catches sight of himself in the black screen of a computer and he can see why she looked horrified, his face was a mask of blood. His hair slicked back with it.

"THIS is our rescue?" One of the men exclaims.

"This is Leon Kennedy, he's the right hand of the President himself, have some respect." Rebecca snaps at the man, crouching herself in front of him.

"The levels cleared," he tells her quietly.

"You did it alone?" She asks.

He nods, "I'm all that's left."

"I thought Jill.." She trails off at the look on his face and her hand rests on his knee. She doesn't say anything, which he's thankful for. He couldn't take it.

"What do you know about these things? Tell me you know something, tell me there's a cure." He had to know. Rebecca bites on her lip, glancing at the other scientists in the room and then rising to her feet.

"I don't know about a cure, but we have a theory."

"Tell me."

"Well.." she notices the wound on his arm and the tourniquet, "why don't we get you cleaned up, and we'll explain." She takes charge, getting back to her feet and telling one of the other scientists to get the medical kit from some drawer or other. She leads him to a restroom off of the lab and she gives him a minute to clean himself up. He stares at his blood soaked reflection in the mirror, he looked like something out of a horror movie, almost unrecognizable as himself. Washing his face he rinses the blood from his eyes, then sets about cleaning the wound. It was long, about four inches, and deep. His forearm would wear this scar forever. Rebecca gently knocks and he tells her to come in, she arrives at his side with the medical kit.

She doesn't say anything, just quietly bandages the wound with as much gauze and tape as was in the kit. It would have to do.

She fixes him up and brings him a sugary soda and energy bar from the vending machine they'd been living on for the past 10 days of their lives. He's grateful for it, the sugar replenishing his levels and giving him a boost. He sits in a large, comfy leather chair and listens as the scientists talk science. They'd discovered this thing in a core sample drawn from the ice two weeks ago. It had initially looked like debris, but once it had thawed they'd discovered it was biological, it activated in water, or blood. It drained the heat from living tissue causing the body temperature drop that Jill had discovered with her thermal scope. It travelled through the blood stream in to the heart where it took root and took control of the body. Its effects took about 3 to 5 minutes to kick in once it was in the blood stream. But you had about an hour before it took complete hold of the heart and once there, removing it while alive would likely be fatal.

"Unless..." Rebecca takes a deep breath, looking to the other men and then back to Leon. "Unless my theory is correct."

"We have no evidence that it is." One of the scientists pipes up. Leon gives him a sideways glance and decides he doesn't like him, he seemed very intent on contradicting Rebecca at every turn, but then if he discovered this thing he probably wanted some weird claim over it.

"Well not exactly," Rebecca shrugs, "but I noticed behaviors in the infected, watching them. They seem to operate with a hive mind. Have you noticed anything?"

"Back at the hotel they launched an attack on us, it was organized. They worked together." He doesn't give away much, something was telling him not to.

"Right! They work together a lot. And there's two kinds, some are infectious and some are like..."

"Warriors." He finishes.

"Its kinda like a bee hive. There's the worker bees and the warriors that defend.. well, the Queen."

He chews on the inside of his lip, "you think there's a Queen?"

"I think the one they pulled out of the ice and activated, that went on to infect someone, is the Queen by default." Rebecca nods.

"So where is she? .. he... whatever." He glances between the scientists. The one he didn't like was eyeing him. What was with this guy?

"It happened during the night, we sleep here in shifts. There's a lot more that happens in this facility, scientist here around the clock," another introducing himself as Jake speaks up. "But we have a security system and the alarm was tripped, everybody woke up. And.. all hell broke lose."

"You woke up and one person started infected everyone else?" Leon fills in the blanks.

"Basically, it was chaos. But somehow that parasite got from a test tube in to someone here."

"This is all speculation, of course." The scientist Leon had taken a disliking to speaks up again. Leon levels his eyes on him.

"I don't think I got your name."

"Simon."

"Simon. Well Simon, unless an ancient parasite was able to open a test tube, get out of whatever containment I assume it was locked down in and walk out of here by itself, my experience tells me someone wanted this thing to break out. They took it out, and put it in to someone.. probably someone sleeping."

"Why would anyone want that?"

"You tell me." Leon says flatly.

Simon laughs, "If you're suggesting I would know what this things plan was.."

"Parasites have plans? Beyond just having a host to feed off of, parasites don't normally have plans. Unless someone's pulling the strings." Leon picks up a pen and idly taps it against the desk. "I expect that parasite was quite happy in its test tube, waiting, for someone to give it a helping hand."

"Well that's all academic now isn't it," Simon smiles at him, "it's out. And if its all the same to you I'd quite like to leave this place still in control of my faculties."

Leon nods, looking away from him and back to Rebecca. "So what was your theory on a cure."

Rebecca shrugs, "pretty simple. Kill the Queen and there's a chance the drones die off too. I'm not sure how that would effect someone infected, but there's a chance you could remove a dead one from a living heart. I doubt the same could be said for one that's alive."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because..." she swallows, "I dissected one of them.. one of the infected." She looked haunted and sympathises. "It had these tendrils that came off of it, wrapped around the heart, like It was squeezing. When I killed it, those tendrils practically disintegrated."

He wasn't going to ask how she managed to immobilize and dissect one. She didn't look like she was up for the conversation. He simply nods.

"So, I kill the Queen and maybe I can save Jill."

"But where is she?" Rebecca asks.

That was a good question.

"You said water activated them.." he ponders. "There was an explosion?"

"In the escape tunnel," the third scientist, Harry speaks up. "Right after the outbreak, it rocked this whole place."

"And where does that come out?" He asks.

Harry looks to Simon and Jake and then back to Leon. "Beside the lake, about a quarter mile away."

"Maybe the explosion was for more than keeping you in, it was to stop anyone going after her." Leon muses. "Someone let this thing out, helped it back to its natural habitat."

"For what?" Simon snorts.

"Probably for money." Leon shoots him a look. "Does that lake lead to the ocean?"

"No, thank God." Rebecca folds her arms. "Its basically a frozen reservoir. The town gets its drinking water from there."

Leon almost laughs. Terrorists, they were almost predictable at this point.

"Lets get you guys to the airfield, and I'll find this Queen and knock her off her throne." He pushes himself to his feet and the task of reloading begins. Rebecca and his other three charges begin gathering up their research. She makes copies on to a flash drive and as they work, they talk. Simon unbuttons his shirt sleeves and rolls them up and as he does, Leon notices a tattoo on the inside of his elbow. He snaps a clip in to his magnum and catches the other man's eye.

"You named this thing?"

"Yes, actually," Simon fixes his sleeve, tattoo covered again, "We called it Pandora."

"Pandora? Pretty name for an ugly thing," Leon holsters his gun.

"Do you know the story of Pandora's Box?" Simon asks him haughtily.

"Greek myth," Leon confirms, "Pandora opened a jar containing all the evils in the world."

"Precisely."

"But wasn't there one thing left?" Rebecca chimes in and Leon gives her a little smile.

"Yes, Hope." Simon says proudly.

Leon wipes blood off of his axe and tucks it back in to his belt loop. "Interesting that you equate a deadly parasite with hope, don't you think?" Simon gives him a look and Leon returns it with a smile, "though you're right about all the evils being unleashed."

"That was what the name referred to, yes." Simon says dryly.

Leon nods. "I hope you all have strong stomachs, the upper floors are a mess. Stay behind me, listen to what I tell you and you'll survive this. Got it?"

Rebecca gives him a thumbs up.

"Lets move."


	9. Killer Queen

**Authors Note:** Time is my bitch, I do what I want. Onwards!

* * *

 **The tides slowly rising, the storm is on its way**  
 **But you can't keep on fighting, so battleworn and so afraid**  
 **Though it's sad and wrong, I hope you will remember**

 **You must carry on**

 **\- Alter Bridge**

* * *

They pick their way over the pile of decapitated, bloody bodies. The three male scientists making strange sounds that Leon assumed meant their stomachs were turning. Some of the corpses were still twitching, but most had bled out and with the physical body dead, the parasite had nothing left to feed off of. He takes out two more wandering former lab workers before they reach the surface. Before they leave, Simon makes himself useful and tells them of a closet on the floor with snow gear inside. Providing them with new, warm jackets to go over their clothes. Leon was glad of it, the extra layer of protection was useful not just to protect them from the cold.

They step outside and once again Simon makes himself useful, telling them his trucks near by and they could drive to the airfield. Leon watches him go to retrieve it with narrowed, calculating eyes.

"Leon?" Rebecca says quietly, arriving at his side.

"Yeah?" He looks down to her.

"About Simon.."

"I know." He nods.

With an unspoken understanding between them, Leon turns to face the lake, moving toward it and coming to a stop at its edge. He gazes down at the ice, then draws his Sentinel and aims at a spot about 10ft in. He fires and watches the ice crack in a long, silvery line. It doesn't break through, but it let him know roughly how deep the ice was. Holstering the handgun again he lifts his eyes and scans the entire lake. She was under there, he was literally betting his life on it.

Simon holds true to his word and brings the truck around to them, it makes getting to the airfield a whole lot easier. Simply running down these things cut out a whole lot of time. Leon's concern that the airfield might also be overrun with the infected is surprisingly unfounded, the first piece of luck since arriving there. Once he has Rebecca and the three scientists safely in to the bomb shelter with the other survivors, he takes his first real opportunity to stop and regroup. He needed to think. If the Queen was under the lake how was he going to draw it out? What would he be dealing with when he did? Would she still be in whatever human body she'd gotten out of the facility in? Or would she be.. something else? Her fully grown and natural, intended form? Experience and gut instinct told him that by now, something else was highly likely.

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the underground shelter, he makes contact with Hunnigan.

"Leon, you look.." Hunnigan trails off, taking in his image on her screen. He gives a dry smile.

"I've had a long day, didn't have time to fix my hair."

"We haven't heard from Jill, or any of the BSAA Field Team, except for the rescue workers in the Shelter."

"That's because I'm the only one left." The way Hunnigans face falls makes the weight of losing Jill all the heavier.

"Jills.. dead?"

"No, not yet. But she is infected."

Silence.

"I left her handcuffed in the Sheriffs station, it happened not long after I spoke to you last. Listen, there might be a way to save her."

"How?"

"Rebecca has a theory. The infected are operating with a hive mind, thinking as one and working as a team. She thinks there's a Queen, the first parasite brought up from the ice. And I think I know where it is. The lake right next to the research facility. It's covered by about a foot of ice and I don't know what state this so called Queen is going to be in by now."

"What do you need?"

"More firepower." He says flatly. "If I take down the Queen, there's a chance we can save Jill. The drone parasite in her body will die, and it can be removed. We need to extract her to the best goddamn heart surgeon on the planet as soon as its done."

Hunnigan nods, typing on her computer. For a while the silence stretches between them.

"Hold out six more hours, I've got people on their way."

"Best news I've heard all day." He rubs his forehead, which still felt sticky with the blood of all those he'd killed. His hair was still slicked back with it, hell of a way to keep it off of your face.

Finishing up the call with his handler and friend, he sits back in the uncomfortable folding chair, closing his eyes. The first moments rest he'd had in well over 40 hours now. He was exhausted and ached from head to foot, his arm still throbbed and his thigh he feared would never be the same again. More scars to add to the collection, and possibly a limp. In the short moments respite he gets, he dreams of her. Ana. Of laying beside her and the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin and the way she looked at him like he was made of magic or something. It's comforting. And then suddenly she disintegrates in his arms and floats away on the breeze, out of his reach forever. He wakes with a start and says her name, causing Rebecca to look over at him with a frown.

"Are you okay?" She asks. He had no idea when she'd arrived next to him.

"Yeah.. sure. Dreams always get kinda whacky." He dismisses it and sits up, bringing his hand to his chin and then using the leverage to crack his neck. It makes Rebecca wince.

"Who's Ana?"

He drops his hands back into his lap and glances at her. "Nobody."

"Hot date?" She presses with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

He chuckles, not answering.

"Do you even date?" She asks curiously, hugging her arms around her knees.

He examines the bandage around his arm and shrugs a shoulder, "not really. Don't have the time."

"That kinda sucks. Mostly for the women of the world." She muses.

Leon laughs wearily, scratching the back of his neck. "Who wants to date someone that's constantly at risk of being torn apart by monsters?"

Rebecca considers this, nodding slowly. "That IS a good question. That would be tough. I mean.. we're just friends and I worry about you and Chris all the time. It's sad, you're both really good guys. You'd make a lucky girl really happy."

He gives her a wistful smile, everybody knew that Chris and Jill were an on and off again thing. They'd love each other until the end of time no doubt, but they suffered the same problems as any other agent that attempted to have a love life in this business. The worry, the stress about the other person, it got overwhelming sometimes. It made it hard to focus on your job and that was a dangerous thing to have happen. Had it made Chris passionate enough to risk it all to save Jill in Africa? Absolutely. Leon had read that report, he'd saved Jill's life in every way it was possible to save someone. Driven not just by co-worker loyalty but by love, it added a little extra incentive. Having to fight someone you loved in hand to hand combat?

He knew how it felt to fight someone you cared about. He cared about Ada. He couldn't help it, he always had, from the moment he met her. He couldn't tell you why, what drew him to her, what made him care. He just did. But they'd gone round in neverending circles and played a dangerous game with each other for well over fifteen years. They'd had numerous encounters in the field, she'd drawn guns on him and him on her. He never quite knew who's side she was on, though in Tall Oaks she'd saved his skin and in Lanshiang he'd saved hers. He'd knelt over her body and kept her safe while yet another crazed mutation raged over them. Then she'd left him with nothing but a text message and the key to his and Helena's freedom.

In almost twenty years they'd spent maybe fifteen nights together and one single weekend couped up in a tropical villa. In that time they had done very, very little talking. Mostly just small talk between the sex. Maybe with her it really was all just physical, she was a dangerous thrill. They met, they fucked, they didn't see each other for a year. He certainly would never trust her. It wasn't love.

Relationships in their line of work were complicated to the point of impossible. So he'd always kept it simple. No ties.

But then there was Ana.

Ana. Ada. It was scary how similar their names were. It was not lost on him at all.

He draws in a deep breath and changes the subject. He couldn't have his head full of women if he was about to face off against a Queen. With that in mind, he gets up and he starts making a plan. Counting down until his backup arrived.

The sound of choppers a few hours later is music to his ears. Leaving the bomb shelter, he gives the remaining BSAA rescue workers strict instructions to allow nobody out until he said so, then heads out on to the snow covered air field to greet the helicopters as they arrived. Two teams, and more firepower than he could have wished for. Hunnigan was his guardian angel. He briefs them on the situation and his plan to force the Queen out of her hiding place.

"I'm sorry, you want to WHAT?" One of the new squad looks at him like he grew another head. He smirks and shoulders his shiny new Assault Rifle.

"You heard me."

The teams look around at each other and are likely questioning taking orders from a complete madman. But the name Leon Kennedy carried quite a bit of weight and with no further objection or questions everybody launches in to action.

As he signs off another quick check in with Hunnigan, one of the new team taps him on the shoulder, getting his attention and pointing in the direction of the hotel. A whole herd of infected shuffling their way. Leon nods, "lets get this show on the road." He turns and climbs inside one of the BSAA trucks left out by the rescue workers. He's joined by two other soldiers and as he starts the engine the choppers both start back up with that satisfying rumble of a sound that always got in to his blood. One of the twin blade helicopters now carried a heavy load underneath it on a sturdy chain. With the cargo safely on its way, Leon puts his foot on the gas and drives straight at the hoard coming their way. In a blaze of gunfire and churned up snow they take out a good portion of that flock of infected and race back down to the lake. Leon kinda liked driving in snow, it made for great drifts.

On the side of the lake he watches the choppers. One hangs just overhead, while the other – carrying its special cargo – flies out to somewhere around the centre. Leon lifts his hand to his ear piece and opens comms.

"On my mark, drop the payload. Then get ready for this shit to get really ugly, really fast." He warns. The soldiers to his sides ready their guns. The chopper holding the cargo rises up a lot higher and once it's at a safe distance, Leon gives the order.

The helicopter drops the large aviation fuel tank down right over the centre of the lake. It was heavy as shit, and would smash the ice with no trouble at all. But slightly before it hits, Leon fires one shot with his most powerful gun. The tank explodes in a deafening, scorching ball of fire just an inch from the ice and the blast is so powerful it knocks them back a step or two. He throws his arm up to protect his face, and the ice shatters in all directions. Fire spreading like water over it's surface. The parasites didn't like heat. They sucked it from bodies and lived in the cold. This bitch was going to hate this. The fuel lit up the water below the broken ice, a legitimate river of fire. Over the comms, one of the chopper team lets out a holler. Sometimes boys just liked blowing shit up.

And then they hear it. The screech is enough to make them all cover their ears. A wail of pure rage, pain and hate. Leon braces and in a tidal wave of water, ice and fire Pandora breaks the surface.

"Jesus Christ!" The soldier beside him exclaims.

It was like watching some macabre ancient phoenix rise from the water. It had once been human, a female, the shape of the torso gave that much away. In place of arms it seemed like it had wings, with a span that almost reached the edges of the lake itself. He saw no eyes, just a giant – gaping mouth full of teeth where a woman's head used to be. Its mutated, stretched and torn skin now on fire, it was several times the size of any Tyrant he'd fought. It kept rising and Leon realizes what it's doing.  
"GET OUTTA THERE!" He yells in to the comms at the chopper hovering above. They pull up but it's too late, a hand or a tentacle or whatever the fuck it was reaches out and all but swipes the chopper out of the air, swatting it like a fly. The creature screams its fury at them, towering over them like an angel of death. The chopper goes down in a ball of flame and it's Leon's turn to yell in rage. "OPEN FIRE"

With that, the onslaught begins. Every gun blazing as the giant swipes for the other chopper. They manage to swing out of its reach and despite the full firepower of a small army battering it, it seemed to focus on the airborne distraction.

The smell of the fuel is choking and it burned his throat and lungs, the smoke rancid. The water still raged fire and turned blood red as they tore in to the Queen with everything they had. Unloading round after round. She wouldn't go down. She screams again, swiping, she just misses the second chopper. But they're not lucky enough to dodge the following strike. Leon curses loudly as the helicopter spins out of control and goes down. The terrified voices of its crew would be another set to add the voices that haunted him at nights.

With the chopper down, she turns her focus finally to the men on the shore. Leon sees the arm coming down and they make a leap for safety, rolling out of the way as she hits. The ground shakes under them, such is the force of the blow. He rolls to his feet and starts firing again, adding grenade shots in to the mix and stoking the fire. She takes the assault like they were just throwing snow at her and swings with her second arm, this time one of his team is thrown hard in to the side of the research facility. Leaving him a bloody splatter against the wall. This thing was strong.

She rears her head back and screams like a banshee. A call to her drones. Save your Queen.

It doesn't take long for them to start coming. Leon directs two of the ground team to start gunning them down as they run to the Queens aid, while he focuses on trying to hit the shot that would finally take her down. Most monsters had a weakness. But where was this things heart?

It wasn't enough.

He tosses another spent clip and slams in his last one. After this, he was back to his handguns. He runs and dodges another strike with a giant winged arm, rolling back to his feet he briefly looks to the sky. "C'mon.." he mutters. Then takes off running again, finding cover and unloading that last clip. The snowy ground was blood red now, the water a lake of fire and gore. And she stood tall, screaming her fury at the ridiculous humans that woke her up, set her free, and now wanted to send her back to hell.

Clip spent, he throws the Assault Rifle aside and draws his magnum.

He had to keep her here, couldn't let her disappear back under the water. He fires, drawing her attention. Dodging her strike. Run. Fire. Dodge. Repeat. As exhaustion begins to set in, he hears another sound over the din of the gunfire and screaming. The sound of heavy chopper blades. He swiftly takes cover at the side of the Research Facility building and yells at his remaining team to do the same, then lifts his hand to his comms.

"Glad you could make it to the party."

"Your taste in women is for shit." Chris Redfield answers him.

The chopper swings around to reveal an open side, and Chris on his stomach, aiming the BSAA's most powerful weapon at the Parasite Queen. She opens her jaws and lets out an ear splitting scream in the direction of the chopper.

"This is for Jill, you fucking ugly bitch." Chris snarls and pulls the trigger. The Sniper Railgun charges and fires in a deafening display of pure power. It blows a large hole clean through the Queen, and adds a sizeable extension crater to the lake. The Queen quiets, wavering where she is, then falls to the earth like a giant felled tree.

Leon braces to the ground shaking crash, then wearily emerges from cover. The gunfire from the other BSAA soldiers comes to an end. The remaining infected begin to fall in their tracks. Rebecca was right.

He slumps against the wall, exhausted, then slides down it and ends up sitting in the bloody snow. Staring at the body of the fallen Queen. It was finally over.

* * *

In the wake of their battle, Leon and Chris had returned to the Sheriffs station with a full medical team. Rebecca's theory held true, the ones that survived being infected were still alive. Barely. But alive. They see Jill safely in to a medical evac chopper and Chris threatens the medical staff with death if they didn't take the best care of her. They assure him they will.

The survivors are loaded in to further evacuation choppers. It would take a while, but they'd all be okay, in the end they'd managed to save 196 civilians, for a town torn to shreds that was a really good number. Rebecca and the Scientists are brought over to the BSAA operations tent now set up, the usual statements needed. As Simon sits giving his version of events, Leon arrives by his side. One last piece of business.

"Simon Gomez?"

"Yes?" The scientist looks up at him with a smug smile. Leon grasps his arm, hauling him to his feet and wrenching his hands behind his back.

"You're under arrest for a laundry list of shit I can't even be bothered to list, you have the right to remain silent, so shut the fuck up." All out of tolerance for this crap, Leon snaps the cuffs around the protesting man's wrists as everyone around them stares in surprise, the other two scientists getting to their feet to question what was happening.

"This is outrageous!" Simon scoffs angrily.

"Is it?" Leon snorts, bending him over the desk he'd been sat at and beginning to search him. He soon finds what he's looking for, pulling a small tube from an inner pocket. He holds it up. "You mind telling me what you're doing trying to smuggle one of these parasites out of Alaska? You thought you'd play the victim, get evacuated with everyone else and quietly return this to your little Los Illuminados cult.."

Silence falls all around them. Silence from Simon.

"The Plaga not enough for those sick fucks? Or did you want to create some kind of crossbred super bug? What was this about, a goddamn show and tell for potential buyers? Carry on the good name of Lord Saddler? Or did you need a body count to impress them so they'll let you in to their club? Pandora your 'hope' for a meal ticket and membership?" He shakes Simon who continues to protest his innocence.

"Your tattoo gave it away," Rebecca speaks up, folding her arms.

"Yeah, next time, don't get so eager to impress. Marking your body with a cult symbol, you fucking moron." He pulls the man upright and he comes face to face with a furious Chris Redfield, who punches Simon right in the gut. Leon lets him drop and looks to the security officers gathered around. "Make sure this piece of shit gets to the nearest dark cell, and stays there." He orders, handing the prisoner over to be suitably manhandled by some pissed off looking BSAA soldiers. The man responsible for a lot of their co-workers dying today wouldn't be having a great trip to Washington, where he'd be interrogated and charged.

It was over.

As that realization sinks in, so does pure exhaustion. Leon slumps down in to the same chair Simon had just been in, resting his elbow on the table and rubbing his forehead. He needed a drink as soon as possible. He scratches his blood encrusted stubble and looks up at Chris Redfield who leaned against the table nearby, probably contemplating his own nightmarish last 48 hours.

"How did Louisiana go?" Leon asks eventually.

"Pretty simple, Blue Umbrella have their shit together, we handled it."

"You trust them?"

"For now."

Leon nods and for a while, stares down at the makeshift floor beneath them. "I'm sorry about Jill."

"She's a warrior, she'll be fine." Chris says certainly. Though it was the voice of a man convincing himself of something, rather than knowing.

"I shouldn't have let it happen. I should have taken point."

"None of us ever know how this shit is going to unfold."

"For what it's worth though, I'm glad this bitch pissed you off enough to bring the big guns." Leon adds a dry chuckle, there wasn't much humor to it but you took what you could get sometimes.

Chris's lips curve in to a slight smile, nodding. "Was pretty satisfying."

A laugh shared between them, then another agent arrives to tell them their extraction helicopter was here to take them back to D.C. Leon hated going there these days, but debriefs were what they were and all part of the process. There'd be reports to write up and psychological evaluations to go through.

As they stride through the snow, Leon glances back at the town. It needed burning to the ground. Who knew if there was more of that shit under the ice, where there was one there was probably more and if one bad guy knew, so did others. How long before Counter Bio Terrorism soldiers were facing another Pandora? Or worse? Weaponizing that thing could mean an ocean bound nightmare, it could take out aircraft carriers, submarines and who knows what else.

He settles in to the chopper and leans back against it's cold walls, closing his eyes. He was going to sleep for a week when he got back home. He ached all over.

"Look." Chris nudges his arm to his side and Leon brings his head back up, glancing to the window and out of it. The most beautiful sight he'd seen since he left a girl behind in Montana. The Northern Lights shimmered across a now cloudless sky, lighting up a mystical rainbow over a place that hours ago had looked a lot like hell.

"It's beautiful," Leon murmurs.

"Take the beauty where you can get it." Chris sighs. It's only now that Leon notices just how exhausted the other man looked. Louisiana had been a harder battle than the tough guy made out.

"Been a long few days, huh?"

"I'm ready for that vacation." Chris nods.

With that, Leon falls silent and returns to gazing out at the rare shred of beauty glimmering in the sky.

* * *

Arriving back in D.C they're taken to the BSAA facility and Leon's rushed in to see the medical team. His arm unwrapped and tended to. His thigh examined. The various other cuts and scrapes easily cleaned. He finally gets the chance to take a long, hot shower. The river of blood than pools at his feet rivals the lake of it they'd left in Alaska. Sweat seemed caked to his body, but for a while he doesn't have the strength to even wash himself, he just stands and lets the hot water rain down over him. Wash away his sins.

Eventually he scrubs every inch of himself and wraps up in a towel, padding back out into the temporary quarters he'd been given while here. On cue, his phone buzzes. An incoming call from Hunnigan.

"There's a sight for sore eyes." He greets her, lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'm glad to see you're alright, Leon."

"Good as can be expected."

"I thought you might want to know that Jill Valentines surgery was a success. They removed the dead parasite from her heart, repaired the damage. She's not out of the woods, it'll be a long recovery. But, she's okay."

He feels a heavy burden lift from his shoulders, bowing his head in pure relief. "Let me know when she's awake and out of those woods."

"I will." Hunnigan promises.

"What happened to that town?"

"They're debating it's future right now, but with the Pandora Parasite in the ice, I'd say it's a safe bet they'll be looking to contain or completely scrub the area."

"I don't even wanna think what that thing could do if it was weaponized. Put it in the ocean? Cross it with a Plaga? We're talking end of days scenarios."

"Well, make sure thats in your report."

"Right.. paperwork. My favorite." He says grimly.

"At least laptops can't kill you?" She suggests hopefully.

"With my luck I wouldn't count on it." He responds with a dry smile.

"Get some sleep, Leon. Good job out there."

"Thanks. One more thing."

"What's that?"

"I quit."

* * *

Dutchmans hooves thundered across the dried out ground, kicking up dust as they steadily canter up to the crest of the hill. Reaching the brow, Ana slows him to a walk and lifts her hand to her eyes to shield against the sun, looking down toward the house.

"Whoa boy.." she sings softly to the horse, lowering her hand and patting his neck.

When she'd left for her ride there had been no black SUV parked outside. It makes her stomach clench up. Were the Foster boys back to continue making her life hell? It had been a week since Leon left, maybe they'd found their courage again.

She clicks with her tongue, her long dark hair whipped back by the breeze that blew over the hill, and coaches the horse onward. They trot down through the field and as they draw closer, she sees someone sitting on the steps leading up in to the house. It couldn't be.

But as she reaches the gate, she realizes it is.

Jumping off of Dutchman she loops his reins over the fence post and ducks through the rails. Her smile grows in to a grin and she breaks in to a jog the closer she gets. Leon Kennedy pushes himself to his feet and steps back down to the grass, wrapping her up in his arms as she reaches him. He holds her like she's his lifeline, closing his eyes, burying his face in her neck and breathing in her sweet scent.

She clings to him, holding on to him for dear life. She feels him tremor, his body shuddering.

As he sinks to his knees she goes with him, cradling him. Stroking her hand through his soft hair.

"I got you.." she whispers.


	10. A Soft Place to Fall

**Authors Note:** On to the next phase, over the next few chapters you can expect some fluff, expect some evolution and quite a lot of passage of time, it wont be as 'Resident Evilly' as some of you may like for a little while. You might not even like Leon as a normal, coping guy. But I hope you stick around, I have so.. so many plans. Oh.. and smut alert. Hope you enjoy!

 **P.S.** I took a small creative liberty here. I've seen it mentioned in comics that Leon's birthday is May 24th. Making him a Gemini. Which.. I have 3 in my family alone. From what we've seen in the games/movies he isn't one even slightly. I moved his b'day date back a handful of days. Making him a Taurus. Not a huge detail, doubt half of you care about astrology but I thought I better mention why I did it for the fact checkers out there!

* * *

 **Daylight has found me here again**  
 **You can ask me anything, but where I've been**  
 **Things that used to matter seem so small**  
 **When you're looking for a soft place to fall**

 **\- Allison Moorer**

* * *

He didn't know why but the moment he gathers her up in his arms he feels like he's home, and suddenly it's safe for everything to come crashing down. He couldn't stop it, he usually had such a strong grip on himself. Was able to measure and control his reactions. But in Alaska, locked in that closet with the hoard of infected that wanted to rip him apart, he'd lost it. For a terrifying, uncontrollable moment, almost twenty years of stress and tension and pure fucking adrenaline that came with surviving almost certain death over and over and over again had crashed down on his head. It had broken him, for just a moment, then that survival instinct had kicked in and he'd gathered himself together and battled on.

As her arms gently encased him it all fell apart. His knees went weak, the shock of it all settled in, and he was undone.

At least in the middle of nowhere there was nobody to see. Nobody but her, and she'd already nursed him through sickness and fought his demons with him. She knew. He barely knew her, but she knew. She was safe and she didn't judge and she even understood. He hadn't expected to fall apart when he saw her, but as he crept up on his 41st birthday, Leon Kennedy had finally reached breaking point.

Only so much horror one mind could handle.

For Ana's part.. she'd caught him when he fell from the sky, she catches him again when he falls to his knees. Wrapping his much larger form up in her arms and just holding him. Stroking his muddy blonde hair, it looked lighter in the sunshine. It had seemed darker when he'd left on a cloudy day. One of the many mysteries of this man that landed in her field three weeks ago.

"I'm sorry," he groans a while later as they sit at her kitchen table, "I wasn't intending on arriving on your doorstep and having a fucking nervous breakdown."

Her smile is gentle and she idly runs her fingers around the rim of her mug of tea, her other hand propping up her chin as she gazes at him. "It's okay. Sometimes you have to let things fall apart, so you can start picking all the pieces up again." She reassures.

He lifts his coffee to his lips, she'd made him some and she'd even added a good splash of whiskey. She might not be a big drinking supporter, but she hadn't said a word. It was exactly what he needed. "Guess that's what I have to do now." He says thoughtfully after swallowing down a mouthful.

She quirks an eyebrow, that gentle smile never leaving her face. "So what made you come out here?"

"What do you think?" He replies immediately, taking another sip.

Her cheeks flush rosy pink and she looks down in to her mug, then shifts in her seat and lifts it to her mouth, looking at him over the rim. "You'll give a girl an ego."

He laughs softly, nodding. "Work gave me two months off." He explains. "I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather spend it."

"Now you're just trying to get in my knickers." She pouts. That makes him laugh louder, it was good to see him smile.

"Do you think they'd suit me? I don't know if I have the hips for em." He quips. It's her turn to laugh out loud. "Dunno how they'd keep all my junk in place in a warzone either."

"You're the worst."

"People keep telling me that." He looks mystified, drumming his fingers against the side of the coffee mug.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, her hair bouncing with the movement. He could watch her do that all day.

"Compliments, jokes, Mr Kennedy are you trying to seduce me?" She purrs.

"Maybe.. maybe. Is it working?"

"You're batting a good average." She purses her lips and gives him a little nod.

"So I just need to keep working on my swing?"

"Something like that." She grins over her mug.

He nods, it was duly noted. Then he draws in a deep breath. "Actually the vacation isn't the whole truth."

"Oh?" Her brow furrows a little, gazing at him. The deep navy blue button down shirt under his black leather jacket brought out those gunmetal eyes and she was a little hypnotized. She was also kinda fascinated by the way his hair looked so much darker indoors than it did outside. Speaking of his hair, it seemed longer now than it had been when he'd left, tickling his cheeks. And he wore a few days worth of stubble really well.

He frowns too, raising the mug again to his mouth and taking a longer drink, then looking back to her. "I kinda quit."

Her mouth falls open. "Are you serious?"

"I was deadly serious." He nods. "Alaska was a special type of hell, I almost got a good friend and co-worker killed. I.. went to some pretty dark places to get through it." He admits, then glances toward the door with a weary sigh. "I mean, you got the idea out there. It was rough."

She looks at him sadly, the things these men went through to protect people that had no idea they were even doing it. She'd always had wild admiration for people in the armed forces. Not only did she have an Uncle that had served, but several people she knew had been effected in one way or another. But Bio Terrorism units? She couldn't even begin to imagine the extra horror they saw.

"Wanna tell me about it?" she asks quietly.

He pauses, mug hovering near to his mouth, then he shakes his head and takes a drink.

She nods, "so what did they say?"

"Well.. they're giving me some time off. They think two months of not putting my life or other peoples lives on the line might help me cool off. They also suggested I could take on a different position in the Division. I don't think they want to lose me."

"Well why would they want to lose one of their best?" She shrugs.

"Now you're trying to get in my pants." He teases and it brings the laughter back.

"Is it working?"

"You're batting a good average," he winks.

"So do you think you'd do that? Take on a different role?" She asks, cupping her mug with both hands.

"Maybe. I don't see myself at a desk. But maybe I can train younger recruits or.. whatever." He looks thoughtful, "I mean the wild world of Bio Terrorism isn't getting any smaller, they need all the hands they can get. But those of us that were there at the start of this shit? We're starting to feel it. All of us." He sighs heavily, "in Alaska.. that friend and co-worker I mentioned? Her names Jill Valentine. She's been fighting this fight for over half of her life and as of right now, this moment, she's in a hospital bed recovering from heart surgery because she took point leaving a building instead of me."

Ana's eyes widen. "Jesus."

"Yeah. If she comes back from it, back to active duty? I'll be amazed. We can't do this forever, none of us. But our knowledge and experience going to waste?" He shrugs, "I dunno. I guess we'll see. They got two months to figure out what they wanna do with me."

She nods. "So what do you wanna do with your two months of freedom?"

He smiles. "Well, I thought you could teach me to ride a horse." He suggests. Her eyebrows jump up and she sits a little straighter.

"You've never ridden before?"

"I sat on a pony when I was 10.." he thinks back, "it was at this kids party. This clown giving pony rides, led us round in a circle for a few minutes. I didn't like clowns and I panicked and fell off."

She laughs, "you don't like clowns?"

"I've never liked clowns, fuck clowns." He shudders.

"Ha! And you looked at me like I was crazy for not liking spiders!" She points at him triumphantly.

"Spiders are useful, Clowns are just the fucking devil."

She laughs and gets to her feet, picking up her empty mug and taking it over to the sink to rinse out. He gets up too, draining the last of his and bringing it over. He draws up behind her and gently places the mug on the counter.

"Thankyou," she says quietly.

"Thank _you_ " he murmurs in return.

She feels the warm bulk of him brush up against her, he was like a sturdy, comforting wall. A protector. And God did he smell good, whatever that cologne was that he wore now it was really working for him. As she rinses out their mugs, his hands settle on her hips and she finds herself leaning back in to him. She gently places an upturned mug on the rack to dry while the fingers of her other hand tighten around the edge of the sink.

When she leans against him, her hair brushes against his chin. She fit there, his perfect puzzle piece. Tucking under his chin, moulding against his body. He leaves one hand on her hip but his other drifts up along her arm and gently tucks her hair aside, making her tilt her head.

"This okay?" He asks quietly.

"Uh huh." It's the only response she can muster in her already giddy brain. Everything about him was intoxicating, the way he touched her, he could probably ask for anything he wanted and get it.

He breathes her in and brushes a kiss just under her ear. He knew it was a bit rude, just turn up at a girls house unannounced, have a nervous breakdown in her front yard then go inside and get handsy. But a few days ago he'd looked death in the eye and his last thought had been that he wouldn't get to see this woman again. And here he was. Wasting moments almost seemed like a crime.

Leon kisses along her shoulder and as he does the slight scratch of his stubble against her sends a shiver of anticipation racing through her. He carefully tucks the strap of her bra and tank top aside, revealing more of that sun warmed skin. The perfect remedy to the cold of ice and death, the warmth of her body. With that thought in mind, he suddenly ramps the intensity up several notches. Bringing his fingertips to her chin he gently coaxes her to turn her head and lean back enough for him to kiss her. Its a wanting, hungry thing and as they melt in to it she arches her arm up to tangle her hand in his hair.

He slides his other hand from her hip down between her legs, jean covered or not, she moans in to that kiss and his need for her swiftly builds. It becomes urgent, an outpouring of everything that had happened since the morning he woke up next to her and had to pretend he was just fine with leaving. Having to tell her he had to pretend she didn't exist. She turns in his arms and he lifts her on to the counter easily. She pushes his hair back from his face and draws him back in to the kiss as he drops his hands to the clasp of her jeans and makes short work of the fastenings.

With a lift of her hips and a bite of her lip, Leon draws her jeans and those panties he'd threatened to get in to down along her legs, throwing them aside. Running her hand over his chest once they're gone, she sits forward and pushes his jacket back off of his shoulders and wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him close. His leather jacket hits the ground with a heavy thud and its his turn to tangle his hands in her hair, pulling her demandingly back in to a kiss.

That kiss is deep and intense and as they lose themselves in it Ana manages to loosen a few more buttons on his navy shirt, the top two already undone. Lips parting to catch a breath he drops his hand, teasing her with a wicked smile and seeking out that inviting wet warmth between her legs. A soft moan escapes her throat when he touches her and she responds by leaning in to gently bite his neck, then soothes it with a kiss. She drags her hands over the hard muscle of his chest and what skin she'd managed to uncover. This man was inside her head, everything about him.

No more teasing.

Undoing his belt she draws back to look him in the eye and unclasps the fastenings, then slips her hand inside his black jeans. The look in his eyes as she takes hold of him - dangerous and lust filled - but in the best way possible. He needed this.. hell, so did she. Leon grabs her hips and draws Ana to him, and with her hand to guide the way, he braces one of his against the surface of the counter and buries himself inside her.

Her cry is loud and in response he lets out a low rumbling growl of relief, then turns his head slightly to kiss her neck, making his way back to her lips. He wanted all of her.

It borders on rough, the coffee mugs knocked from their drying rack. Its a taking. A release. A fucking exorcism of sorts. When its done it leaves them panting and shaking and sated completely. Ana's legs tremble with the thrill of her release. His barely keep him upright as he takes all his tension and fear and desperation and pours it into her. When those last moments of pure bliss ebb away, he drops his forehead to her shoulder. Bracing his hands on either side of her on the counter and fighting for his breath.

Their hearts pounded a similar beat and she strokes his back. Eyes closed and recovering, her legs remain hooked around his hips.

He was always a little dumb after he came, like many men. It was like blowing his brains out inside her. He needed some time to reclaim the braincells he lost. So naturally he says the dumbest thing he could. He thanks her.

But it makes her laugh. Giggling against his skin and dotting little kisses here and there against the exposed parts of his chest. "You're welcome." She gently nibbles just below his ear. It makes him shiver in the best way possible. It's gravity doing its thing that forces them to move, sex was the most fun two people could have but it was also a messy pain in the backside. The unglamorous parts they never showed on TV shows or movies. But they manage, and when all that reality is dealt with and they're zipped back up in their clothes, he starts laughing.

"What?" she grins, getting a jug of juice from the fridge and two glasses.

"Just glad you didn't kick my ass."

"Why would I do that?"

"For thanking you."

She shrugs, "well it was literally my pleasure so I don't see a problem."

"Well that's good. I get a bit dumb after.."

"Most men are dumb all the time, so you're ahead of the curve there." She winks at him and hands him a glass. He takes it and drains the drink in one long gulp.

"I always did score high in tests."

"Where did you come from, Leon Kennedy?" she asks with an amused smile.

"My car." He thumbs in the direction of where that rented SUV sat and she laughs.

"Is that really your car?"

"No."

"Do you own a car?"

"Yes."

"Where.. where do you own a car?"

"You mean where do I live? You getting all personal?"

"God forbid we get personal!" she laughs, her eyes sparkling. She was more full of life than anybody he'd ever met. Like she hadn't seen all the terrible things in the world, even though she actually had seen some of them, so she'd told him. "Do you have a house? An apartment? Where?"

He leans against the counter they just fucked on and gives her a casual shrug. "I actually have two."

Her eyebrows jump. "Oh!"

"I have a little apartment in D.C but I don't use it much, not lately anyway. But it's near everything for work so.. here and there." He accepts another pouring of the juice. "I should probably sell it cause I got no desire to live in D.C anymore. Trying to get as far the fuck away as I can from everything that reminds me of shitty events." He sighs. "And I got a house in Colorado."

"Get out!" she exclaims, and he looks toward the door sadly. Putting his glass down and giving her a glum 'okay'. She throws her head back with a laugh and grabs his arm. "Not actually get out you goof! I just have an Uncle that lives there. Fort Collins."

He grins at her selling of the joke and then lifts an eyebrow at her admission. "Oh yeah? My place is in Castle Rock, little bit on the nose but less so than Rifle." He chuckles. "Almost chose that and decided I wasn't ready for that much irony."

"Well buying a house is enough adulting for anybody.." she shakes her head, "only so much irony you can take on board."

Her smile soothed something inside him, he could look at it all day. "I should probably stop by there some time, see if the potted plants have taken over." He looks thoughtful.

"You have potted plants too? You're an endless surprise, Mister Kennedy. I wouldn't have pictured you as the botanist type."

"I have some seriously green fingers." He nods.

"How green?"

"I can keep a cactus alive for a whole month. I'm that fucking good." He claims proudly.

"Oh! Well maybe you can help me with my sunflowers." She giggles as he tucks his hands around her hips and pulls her close again. She lifts her arms and drapes them around his shoulders, drinks forgotten.

"Where are your sunflowers?"

"In a packet in the barn, I've never been brave enough to try."

"Lets do it..." he kisses her, "what do we need to do with the seeds?"

"Put them in the ground, generally." She kisses him.

"I'm not sure about this, it sounds risky." He makes a face.

"Somehow we'll make it, where's your sense of adventure?" She teases.

"Over there somewhere.." he waves a hand off in a random direction, walking her backwards in to the living room.

"The barns that way." She points behind him.

"Fuck it." He mumbles against her lips as they kiss. Then topple down on to the couch.

It had been a long damn time since he behaved like a normal human being. But she soothed the battleworn man inside and made him feel alive. He wanted to hang on to this feeling for as long as he could. Forever if possible.

They make out like a couple of teenagers on their parents couch, enjoying one another thoroughly. Ending up a naked, sweaty heap with her draped over the length of his body. For Leon, she was a pleasant weight to bear. Her head rests on his slightly fuzzy chest and his fingers drift through her hair. She idly strokes her hand back and forth along his ribs. It was insane to feel this much for someone you really barely knew. She'd only just learned where he lived, she knew nothing else about him other than his job was ridiculously dangerous and left him traumatized. She also notices now that that shirt is off, that he has a large bandage around his forearm. She wanted to ask what had happened, but she assumed it was something to do with Alaska and she didn't want to press him on that.

She supposed he'd talk in his own time, or not. How people coped with things was down to them, but she knew pushing wasn't good.

Leon's lost in a whole other world of thoughts. After Alaska, they'd kept him at the facility in D.C for a day or two under medical observation, as was the norm for anybody returning from a mission like that. They needed to do tests, make sure you yourself hadn't picked up anything terrible. They made you speak to the psych staff and generally checked in on their agents well being. He couldn't really fault them there, they asked a lot of the men and women that put their lives on the line for the greater good. But they took care of them too.

Leon had an interesting medical history to say the least. They'd discovered early on he had a natural immunity to the dreaded T Virus. He was a one in a million lucky penny with that draw. He'd also played host to the dangerous Plaga parasite egg and apparently that had fucked up a little something in his body chemistry too. He'd been exposed to so many things, and handed so many vaccinations over the years that he rarely got sick anymore. It was strange, but they sure did like to take his blood and tell him he was special. Whatever doctors got their kicks out of he supposed.

The psych evaluation had been... interesting. He'd been fairly aggressive with the evaluator because he was pissed off and he just wanted to leave. He'd told Hunnigan he'd quit, that was it, he wanted to go. Yet he was practically held against his will. So yeah, he'd been a grade A Asshole to the kindly suit that wanted to ask him a lot of questions. But eventually he'd calmed down, and the very fact he'd asked to hand in his resignation told her pretty much all she needed to know about his mental state.

People were going to be discussing him in offices for the next few weeks, he was sure of that. What to do with Leon Kennedy. Let him go? Force him in to an office? Find something useful for him to do? He was willing to be part of the discussion, but for the next two months he didn't want a goddamn thing to do with any of them. He just wanted it all to go the fuck away. They'd promised him that would be the case, and here he was. Hiding in the mountains with the only person on earth that made him feel calm and normal. She saw a man, not a soldier or a 'hand of the President'. God being called that got tired, fast.

He smooths his hand over Ana's lower back, the way her body curved and sloped was a miracle of human evolution. Her hand stroking over his ribs felt good, and after a while he tilts his chin to kiss the top of her head.

"I'm glad you came back," she whispers, "I never thought I was going to see you again."

"Truthfully, neither did I." He admits, "not that I didn't want to.. just.."

She closes her eyes, sliding her hand a little further around him in a small hug.

He suddenly breathes in, lifting his head with a slight sense of urgency. "Gonna seem like an odd time to bring this up but.. we haven't been using anything."

"Hm?" She frowns, lifting her head and resting her chin on his chest to look at him. His face says it all. "Oh!" She laughs, "I'm on a shot. It's all good. Its just habit from when I lived in the city."

Adulting. Adulting could be so serious sometimes.

"And my last boyfriend was like 4 years ago," she adds, "I know you were thinking it."

"I..." He trails off and looks a little guilty.

"Well, I said earlier we barely know anything about each other. I don't even know how old you are."

He pulls a face. "I'm 41 in a couple of months time." He admits, and it was truth. Some of his oldest friends didn't even know how old he was, thought he was still in his 30's.

She looks thoughtful, "that makes you a May baby." She smiles.

"19th," he answers, rubbing her back.

"Ooft, Taurus. That explains a LOT." She laughs and he chuckles with her.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Taurus, the bull. Strong willed, stubborn, crashes in head first. Gets shit done."

"That does sound pretty accurate. What about you?"

"July 26th," she answers, "I'm a Leo. But not a typical one.. and I'm 35."

His eyebrows jump as he looks down at her. "Women and astrology. And they call me crazy."

She prods his ribs, the two of them dissolving in to laughter.

Lying there naked on her couch, they do what most did on a first date. They get to know each other. She tells him about her parents and growing up on the ranch, it's kinda fascinating to him that she'd played by the same fireplace they lay opposite now as a child. He liked the idea of roots. There was something comforting about it. He tells her about his parents, a pretty well off family out of Colorado. But a family that had been hit by tragedy when his older brother had been killed in a car accident when Leon was 15. His big brother, Michael, was just 18 when he died. The other driver in the accident had a revoked licence for drunk driving and was behind the wheel anyway.

It had turned an already rebellious teenager in to one with a cause. It had put him on his path toward becoming a Police officer. The rest, as they say, was history.

"My Dad passed away a couple of years ago actually," He sighs, "and I lost my Mom a few years after Michael. Cancer. Both of them."

"I'm sorry," she frowns. He already knew the status of her parents.

He shrugs, "it is what it is. Cant choose the shit that happens to us sometimes."

She smiles at him, that was so true she wasn't even sure he was aware quite how much.

"Hell I've been almost dying since I was 4.." he adds with a dry laugh.

"Oh?"

"Meningitis. I was really sick, in hospital for a longass time." He says thoughtfully, "I don't remember any of it. But I do wonder sometimes how many shots at cheating death I have left."

She draws in a breath and pushes herself up, sweeping her hair to one side and looking down at him. "Maybe you're like Bruce Willis in Unbreakable." She suggests.

"I'm definitely breakable." He laughs as their fingers lace together.

"But not to the point you're broken."

"Not yet..." he gazes at her.

She moves again, straddling him as they lift their hands and with one set of fingers linked, they press their palms flat against each other with the other. Her hand was so tiny against his. It was kinda adorable.

"Do we discuss exes?" She asks.

"How many do you have?"

She blushes, "six, but only two of them were serious. A year each. I never stayed in one place long enough to really make a go of anything. What about you?"

He chuckles, groaning deep in the back of his throat. Her eyes widen.

"Oh its one of THOSE answers."

"Yes and no. Relationships.. honestly.. I've never had the time for em. Dated a girl in high school but otherwise.. its rough. I saw another agent named Helena for a while, couple of years back." He says thoughtfully, "but that was more a reaction to the situation we'd been in. We were thrown together during an outbreak, it was messy." He closes his eyes, grumbling, "saw each other a few times after. Then she started getting weird, like when was I giving her a ring weird, and we'd known each other for a hiccup."

"Oh dear."

"People in my line of work don't do very well at relationships. Put it like that."

"It's understandable." She nods. "What about your other A names? Ada and Angela?"

He closes his hand around hers and draws her down to him again. "Another A.. Ancient history."

"Fair enough," she grins.

They share a lingering kiss and it's finally time to move. Getting up and getting dressed, he gets his things in from the car now that it was decided he would stay for a while. Tomorrow, she'd teach him how to ride a horse. Of all the dangerous things he'd done in his life. Of all the weapons he knew how to use, martial arts he knew how to execute. Languages he knew how to speak. He had a feeling learning to work with an animal rather than fight it might be one of the biggest challenges he'd ever faced. And he was all about new challenges.

She cooks dinner and from his bags he drags out his laptop and they watch a movie. He taunts her about not having a television and he threatens her with getting her one. He had government connections, he could get her cable in the mountains. She calls him ridiculous.

This time when they go to bed, he shares hers. There to protect her from the spiders, a true hero.

At 3am he wakes up bathed in sweat and shaking as Pandora bathed him in fire. The nightmares didn't want to give him a break, there was no escaping them. Nowhere far enough for him to run. And since Alaska, he had a whole new set to contend with. New memories, new burdens, her imagery burned in to his soul. He eases out of bed without disturbing her, an expert at moving in shadow and silence. Heading downstairs, he splashes water on his face at the sink then rummages in one of his holdall bags. Producing a bottle of strong whiskey and wrapping himself in a dark hoodie to protect from the cold, he heads out on to the porch to drink the nightmares away.

That silver moon. It bathed everything in a gentle, soothing light. Yet in Alaska it had been so cold. Haunting.

Hard to believe it was the same yet so far away.

The whiskey burns and centers him, drowning the demons. Enough that he can eventually return to bed. She stirs when he does, turning to cuddle up to him, he tucks her gladly under his arm. She says nothing about the strong smell of whiskey on his breath.

She doesn't mention it in the morning either, just goes about her business and it's business he decides to help her with. He wanted to learn about the ranch, so he gives her a hand feeding the horses and turning them out for a graze. Watching him lead Domino to the field makes her smile, the smallest of her three horses but Domino still gave him some shit. Leon takes it in his stride though.

"He likes you." She comments as he turns the animal loose and Domino loiters for a moment longer, nudging his pockets in search of treats.

"Coulda fooled me." He chuckles, smiling at her from under his hoodie. It framed his face, his hair wisping out from under it at the sides.

"No really, he hates everybody but me. Usually he'd be kicking up dust right now." Domino turns his attention to her and nibbles her pocket in search of carrots, then decides the humans aren't going to help him out with snacks at all. He sighs and turns around, plodding off up the field.

For a while they lean against the gate and watch the horse as he finds a good spot to roll, then picks somewhere to graze. Tail swishing back and forth. She finds her attention more on Leon though. He was distant today, somewhere far away in his head and in his eyes. But that was okay, she didn't expect for him to be a barrel of sunshine and wonder all the time. She'd gotten the impression still waters ran deep with this one, as dry and as focused and pretty damn funny as he could be, she was pretty sure under the surface there was a lot going on that maybe nobody else had ever seen. That was the kind of territory you ventured in to with the utmost care, people that kept the hard parts under lock and key didn't respond well to that lock being rattled a lot of the time. So she lets him have his time, they finish up the rest of the ranch chores and as they're putting feed buckets away it begins to rain. They retreat to the shelter of the house, peeling off the damp outer layers.

Its unlike any day she'd spent with him so far. He was quiet and locked away, dealing with whatever demons were chomping away at him. It's only toward the later evening that the Leon she knew makes his return, like he'd emerged from some long darkness somewhere. She ends up curled up in his lap, gently smoothing his long hair back and framing his quite handsome face. She gives him a gentle smile.

"Where did you go today?" She asks in a whisper.

Thunder rumbles overhead signifying the start of a storm, just like the night they met.

"It doesn't matter," he murmurs in return, stroking his hand along her thigh. "I'll always come back."

She smiles, studying his eyes as lightning lights up the fire lit room. The comforting sound of heavy rain hitting the windows makes them feel like they're in a protected bubble. He makes her the first of what would be many promises.

Nights like these would always be theirs.

* * *

 **Authors 2nd Note:** Lost a chunk of this thanks to a weird error and couldn't retrieve it. Boo. Re-writes are never as good as the first time you pour it all out, which sucks. But there we go, next phase underway! I'm not as good at the sweet stuff, so hopefully it works.


	11. The Longer You Stay

**Authors Note:** I either have an awful memory or theres no real info on offices and how things are actually laid out in the RE world. So this is either me making it up as I go along, or a creative liberty. Either way, its my world now so go with it haha.

* * *

 **Square one, my slate is clear**  
 **Rest your head on me, my dear**  
 **It took a world of trouble, took a world of tears**  
 **Took a long time... to get back here**

 **\- Tom Petty**

 **2 Months Later**

* * *

"Why did the blind man fall in to the well?"

"Why?"

"Because he couldn't **see** that well."

"Stop it."

She shoves the bucket of water drawn from the well in to his hands with an amused giggle and points in the direction of the water trough. The look he gives her in return makes her melt, as it always did. A kind of cheeky half smile mixed with a glint of mischief in his stormy eyes, one of which was half covered by that mop of always perfect hair he wore on his head. This man, she still wondered every day what stroke of fate had brought him here. But here he was, wisecracking his way through daily chores.

She also can't help but admire his ass in those jeans as he carries that bucket to the trough.

It had been two months since he'd turned up on her doorstep, on the run from his demons. This place seemed to have the same effect on him as it did on her, cut off from the world, you could truly get a chance to breathe. He seemed to be breathing better every day. The first couple of weeks had been a little rough, full of nightmares and moods and a lot of drinking. She'd found him passed out in various places more than once, not through injury or fever but through drinking himself to the point of no return. It was a little scary, but like her Father it seemed, he didn't take alcohol to a mean place. It just doused the furies screaming inside him, gave him a little respite from their noise. He hadn't mistreated her or so much as thrown her a grouchy look when he held a glass in his hand, quite the opposite in fact. He'd treated her better in this past two months than any man ever had.

He was kind and chivalrous but didn't treat her like an idiot or an infant. He knew she could hold her own in most things and on the ranch, well, that was her domain. He'd thrown himself in to learning, though. He could now even brandish a lasso and get it around the neck of a moving animal, that was a hell of a talent to pick up in such a short time.

It was scary how quickly he learned things, she'd never known anything like it. Show him once and he usually had it down. He still had to learn how to do it from a moving horse, but she had no doubt one day he'd get there. He joked about having a future in Rodeo, she'd told him absolutely not, he was more likely to end up with a broken back doing that than fighting the undead.

For two people that had barely known each other, they now behaved like they'd been together forever. Something just clicked, fell in to place. It was easy, she knew when he needed a minute.. or an hour, or however long with his echoes. She was an ear on the odd occasion he needed to talk. They'd be in the middle of something and suddenly some event would come up, a memory, a jolt to the past. And it would all just spill out of him and she'd listen, be a gentle hand of comfort where she could. He'd seen some horrors, and he had a weight of guilt on him she wished she could set him free from. Survivors Guilt, they called it. When you were the only one to come out of a situation, there's so many questions as to why? Why you? He beat himself up constantly, what he could have done differently, who else he could have saved if he'd just made another decision, or a faster one.

It hurt her heart to hear it and to see the haunted look in his eyes, but she never looked away. She reminded him of the people he had saved, who would be living their lives now because of him. Not to mention the world in general being a safer place because he and people like him risked it all to protect the world from unimaginable dangers.

Of course there had been good times too, it hadn't all been dealing with trauma. They'd had cook-outs and he'd met some of the people in her life, neighbouring farmers and people from the town. It was a community out here, even so far apart from each other. Ranches helped out ranches, people came up for certain seasons to help bring the cows down from the mountains and take care of the multitude of hard tasks that came with running the place. It wasn't as lonely out there as you might imagine, when everyone came together it was like a giant family and of course, they'd accepted Leon right in to it. He was one of their own now. He even had the cowboy hat to prove it.

Oh, and they'd had a LOT of sex.

Almost three months since they met, she never wanted him to leave. But she knew it was coming.

He returns with the bucket and hangs it off the side of the well, dusting his leather gloves off as she fixes the well cover back in place and padlocks it. "Storms coming in," She nods toward the horizon and he turns his head to see.

"We'll beat it back." He calculates. Always calculating. He saw everything in a way she couldn't. Times and distances and all manner of things. He looks back to her with a smile and they move away from the well, back to the horses loosely tied to a fallen tree. Azure lifts her head from her grazing and greets Ana with a little whicker of her nostrils. She gives the grey mare a pat on the neck and puts her foot in the stirrup, swinging her leg up easily to mount and watching Leon as he unties Dutchman.

Yep, Leon had inherited the big lad. Like everything else, Leon had picked up riding a horse in his stride. Not that there was a lot to it to just sit there. But he rode now like he'd been doing it for years, in perfect harmony with the horse. And Dutchman accommodated his longer legs.

She watches him swing up on to the larger horse and smiles, it never got old watching him do that. He looked every inch the cowboy in his jeans and boots and his hair billowing in the kicked up wind. She laughs and he looks at her curiously.

"What?"

"Oh nothing.." she gives him a cheeky smirk as they start on their ride back to the ranch.

"Am I doing it wrong?"

"No! No not at all. Perfect actually.. its just the wind all whipping back your hair, you looked like a commercial for a second."

He gives her a playful scowl and reaches over and knocks off her hat.

"Hey!"

With that he kicks Dutchman into a canter and the chase is on. The pair of them thundering across the hills, laughing like a couple of children.

They return to the ranch ahead of the storm as predicted and rub down the horses, putting them to bed for the evening and heading inside intent on feeding themselves. She hangs up a bridle that needed cleaning and goes to wash her hands while he fetches them some drinks. It was so blissfully normal and peaceful, the two of them looking forward to an evening in front of a movie and food. Which is why when that phone of his suddenly lights up and makes an awful beeping noise, her stomach clenches.

His does too. Pausing in the middle of pouring and staring at it, sitting there on the kitchen table. They'd known this was coming, she still hoped maybe a government issued phone got crank calls, though. Sharing a look, he puts down the bottle and heads over to it, picking up and staring at the incoming alert. Sooner or later, it always crawled back in to his life. With a heavy sigh, he accepts the call.

"Kennedy," he answers rather gruffly, taking a seat at the table.

She tries not to listen in as she begins preparing dinner, but she can't help it really. She noticed her heart was racing a little faster and some part of her wanted to march over there, grab the phone and give these people a piece of her mind. Scream at them, tell them to leave him alone, he'd done enough. But she doesn't. The call thankfully isn't that long and before she plucks up the courage to tell his employers to go fuck themselves, he's back by her side, phone in his hand and a look on his face.

"What did they say?" She asks hesitantly.

"I have to go back to D.C. Tomorrow." He scratches the back of his neck with his other hand and she just stares at him.

"Why? I mean, they just want to talk, right?"

"Yeah. Talk about my 'future' with the DSO." He mutters. He looked a little lost and she dries her hands off and lifts them to his face, making him look at her.

"You don't have to go."

"I do. This isn't a job or a Department you can just walk away from, I just..." he sighs, looking down at the phone in his hand. "I know me. If they tell me there's some critical outbreak somewhere and nobody else can handle it..."

She feels her stomach knot up even tighter, but she says nothing. What could she say? Tell him no?

"Don't let them talk you in to it, Leon.." she sighs sadly.

"I'm just worried they wont have to. Sometimes even I don't know when to say enough's enough."

She laughs a little, shaking her head. "They knew. They knew if they gave you two months off you'd chill out enough that they could just send you right back out.." She almost spits the last few words out and it surprises him a little. A frown creasing his forehead.

"Hey.." he says gently, taking her chin between thumb and forefinger. She looks up at him with watery, frightened eyes and his frown deepens. "I'll come back."

"Will you?" She whispers.

"Didn't I promise?" He returns the quiet tone. "I'm not going back out on one of their suicide missions."

"But you just said.."

"That was before I saw the look in your eyes." He cuts her off and she blinks, hiding the traitorous eyes that wanted to give away the fear she felt for him. "I don't wanna see that look again ever."

"I'm sorry." She holds that blink and draws in a deep breath, "It's not up to me what you do, its your life, your career, I'm just..."

"You're just the person that pulled me up from a cliff edge, twice." He interjects again, "that's kept me fucking sane this last three months. I told them I quit and I mean it, they can find something else for me to do or I'm done."

He says it so flatly it makes a little shiver run up her spine, but its a good shiver. The decisiveness in his voice was a relief, though she'd still be anxious every minute he was away.

She puffs her cheeks out and then lets a little laugh escape, nodding. "Still gonna be a long few days."

"I'm impossible to live without, I know." He quips and gives her a wink.

She shoves him away with her hand and a laugh, "Go do something."

He returns to pouring them some drinks, but the jovial mood of the day is sadly lost. Still, they make the most of the time they have left and that night, by the light of two candles on her bedside drawer, they make love for the first time. There's a difference between sex for enjoyment and pleasure, and truly showing someone with everything you are how much you care. Without the words between them, they say it. In the wake of it, with bodies entwined and bathed in a golden glow, he gazes down at this angel of his with her mess of beautiful hair and a smile that healed his soul and suddenly everything seems clearer than it had in a long – long time. He'd fought so hard for so long to make the world a better place for people to live in, at the age of 41, didn't he deserve a chance to finally live in it?

* * *

After two months in jeans and shirts it felt weird to be getting back in to business mode, or as business as he ever got anyway. White collared shirt undone three buttons from the top, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a black waistcoat and pants. He looked as presentable as he could stomach. Walking back in to the lobby of the tall building in D.C that housed the offices, labs and various other facilities of a group of companies with shared interests was like returning to the Batcave, it echoed and he suddenly felt pretty naked not being strapped. A woman at the front desk welcomes him back with a pleasant wave and smile and he simply gives her a little nod in return. Welcome back felt like a bit of a stretch at this point.

After the terrorist attack on D.C, in which he'd lost an entire squad of men in the blink of an eye, security at this building had been ramped up tenfold. Soldiers with guns stood at almost every doorway and entrance and you could feel the cameras watching your every move. This building would be a prime target for anyone looking to attack this city again, so no doubt, the combined forces of the agencies under this roof looked to make sure every deterrent possible was in place. He was fairly sure some of the corridors contained tricky laser traps – God he hated those things. Hopefully he'd never have to navigate this building under siege and find out.

In the elevator, he thumbs the button for the 10th floor, the Division of Security Operations operated between levels 8 through 10. The BSAA had their Washington offices, labs and medical facilities on floors 4 through 6. Smaller organizations that still played a part in the Governments war against Bio Terrorism and terrorism in general took up the floors between. This was a high tech, high security building full of people that could either kick your ass or science you in to the grave. Once upon a time being in here had felt like being part of the elite, a strange pride came with it all. But now? Now it felt like a world he wanted to escape. But at least it was a familiar one, he knew how to navigate it with ease.

At the 5th floor the elevator comes to a stop to let someone on. Leon – leaning back against the rear of the elevator with his arms folded and his ankles crossed, greets them with a small smile and looks past them to the wall in the BSAA lobby, various framed photos of some of the elite agents that had lost their lives over the years hung in memoriam above a potted plant. He appreciated the sentiment, but it also made him a little angry. You give it all and end up a photo over a plant that people walk past daily and never acknowledge. There were a lot of people he knew on that wall.

The small bow of his head pays his respects and the lifts doors slide to a close.

The next stop is his and with a sigh he pushes away from the wall and exits into the lobby, immediately he can feel eyes on him. Whispers in corners. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and avoids most eye contact, letting the front desk know he was there and then making his way through the corridors to the office of the man that was technically his boss, when he wasn't taking orders directly from the President anyway. James Hoult, an older man, pushing sixty and long since retired from the military jobs he'd had throughout his life. He'd seen his share of horrors in the field, Leon had a lot of respect for him. But today, he wasn't here to make him happy.

He's told by the receptionist that James is on a call and he'd see him in a few minutes. So Leon slumps down in to a seat, throwing his arm over the back of it and crossing his ankle over his knee. A couple of other men in suits looked a lot more uptight and tense, he could only assume they were new here. Give it a few years and a few assignments, they'd give as little of a shit about appearances as Leon did. He had nothing else to prove here.

Waiting. He'd never been very good at waiting. As he sits, he gazes around at the various paintings hung on the wall. This part of the building dripped with the money obviously poured in to the Division – it was the Presidents pet project after all. It looked like one of those old castles you found in europe, a handful of statues by the door and most baffling of all, three paintings side by side depicting the Archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. He had no idea where angels came in to a business like this – with the things he'd seen, Leon was a thousand percent sure that angels didn't exist.

Old men and their weird taste in artwork.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait too long. He's called in to face his future and enters a room that doesn't just contain the real right hand of the President, but several others from the board of stuffy old people that gave directives to guys like him to carry out.

"What's this, my leaving party? I hope there's cake," Leon says dryly after shaking a lot of hands and taking a seat at the far end of the table. He's as casual in the leather chair as he was out in the waiting area. Leaning back, picking up a pen and tapping it against his fingers as he scans the room full of bored looking men.

"Well, that's what we brought you here for, we were hoping you would reconsider." James smiles, sitting opposite him and clasping his hands in front of him on the table.

"I think I made my position pretty clear." Leon responds.

"The thing is, Mr Kennedy, with your wealth of experience both in the field and behind the scenes, the Division is very loathe to let you go."

"Is this where you tell me I have no choice? I signed my life away? That at almost 41 – with the shit I've seen – I don't deserve a minute to breathe and enjoy this world I fought for?" He tries to keep his voice level, but he can't help the slight anger that creeps through.

"Not at all. All of us around this table have served this country." James argues. Leons gaze flicks around the table again, half of them he couldn't imagine knew how to use a stapler yet alone an Assault Rifle. "We understand the trauma that comes with the assignments you've completed."

"Do you?" Leon stares him down, then suddenly sits forward and echoes the other mans stance. Hands clasped on the table in front of him. "See I find that hard to believe. This Division was founded in 2011 when the President decided that the incidents of Bio Terrorism were escalating along with the huge advances in technology. I'm going to assume you've been retired from 'the field' a little longer than seven years. I'm going to assume you were not on the streets of Raccoon City, or hunted like a goddamn rabbit through Spain for days while choking up blood from the parasite some crackpot stuffed inside you. I'm going to take a wild guess and say you've never had to shoot an ally to rid him of one of those parasites and leave him confined to a wheelchair the rest of his life. Or kill good men that made bad decisions and pay for it by mutating in to disgusting sideshow freaks. Or face down a Tyrant charging at you with nothing but a knife because you ran out of options. Have you ever seen a Tyrant up close? They're the size of a small building and exist with the sole purpose of crushing you to dust. Have you ever thrown yourself off the side of a burning skyscraper to some shaky, broken platform just to protect someone you care about, and stand over their body fighting off a 30ft tall mutated BOW just praying you can hold out long enough in that one spot for her to come around and get back up?"

The longer he went on, the angrier he was getting. "Fought your way through undead infested sewers? Watched friend after friend after friend fucking die? Been betrayed by your own men? Failed an entire city and had the weight of that sit on you? 70 thousand people dead in the blink of an eye because YOU couldn't save them?" He rises to his feet, hands slamming down on the table, he looks to each of the men in the room. "Can a single one of you say that?"

He throws the pen down and sits again, leaning back in his chair, "I could sit here all day and list the shit I've seen. Lived through. I'm sure things were tough in the good ole days but since people started mutating other people and genetically engineering parasites and plagues and viruses with the breakthroughs in technology over the past two decades, you haven't got a fucking clue."

Silence. It hangs like a stone in the air, heavy, waiting to fall and crush them all. Until eventually James clears his throat.

"We understand this is hard on every Agent, and we appreciate your service."

Leon laughs.

"Which is why we'd be willing to take you off of active field duty."

Leon's smile fades, and he looks back to the other man.

"I won't lie, Mr Kennedy. Losing you from active duty is going to be a huge blow to this Division. One it might not recover from. But if you would be willing to stay in a behind the scenes role, to train our younger agents, to advise those in the field. We'll change your role to Security Advisor instead of Active Field Agent. Your knowledge and experience is invaluable, you can continue to help us and your country by other means."

Leon stares at him, feeling that anger inside begin to relax. A weight slowly coming off of his shoulders.

"So, what, I'm stuck behind a desk?"

"No. That would be a waste of your talents. You'd be on hand to advise field agents as and when needed. You would be here, to train those coming in and those already established, in our extensive new field simulation facilities."

He can't help it, his mind drifts to Ana. "We'll have to work out a schedule."

"You can advise field agents from anywhere, it would be an 'on call' task. We'd need you here two weeks out of the month for training. We're aware you're selling your D.C apartment."

"Just trying to have a life, away from where I got a whole squad killed." he sighs, rubbing his forehead.

James smiles. "We understand."

Leon closes his eyes, drawing in a deep – calming breath. Letting it out slowly, he nods. "Then lets do it."

"Very good." James nods, "we will have new schedules drawn up, we'll be in contact."

Leon nods again as the men start getting to their feet, he does also. The hand shaking begins, and he doesn't apologize for snapping at them.

A lot of back patting and congratulating later, Leon leaves the office with a greater sense of relief than he'd probably ever had. He could finally breathe, it was finally over. Getting back in the lift he thumbs the button for the ground floor, plans in his mind. Return to his hotel, catch up with an old friend or two, then in the morning fly back to Montana and let Ana know what had happened. He needed to get that woman a phone that could get a signal out there, especially if he was going to be in D.C for two weeks of every month starting soon. They could do this, right? Two weeks there and two weeks here, it could work. People did it all the time.

The elevator dings and stops at Floor 6, the doors sliding open.

Jill Valentine steps inside.

"Holy shit, Jill!" Leon's eyes widen at the same time as hers and he pushes away from the wall.

"Leon, what are you doing here?" She asks with a smile as they move in to a hug. He holds her for a few moments, closing his eyes and quietly thanking whoever that she was alright, back on her feet.

"Quitting the DSO, kinda." He says as he pulls back.

"What?"

"It's a long story. I'll still be around, training new agents, advising.." he waves a hand, "it's a whole new deal. It's not important. How are you?"

She blinks, looking a little taken aback but eventually she nods. "I'm good. Back on my feet, was just getting cleared to return to duty actually."

His turn to look stunned. "You had major heart surgery two months ago!"

She laughs softly, "apparently I have a really strong constitution."

"Apparently." He repeats, looking her over as though he could see her magical healing powers or something.

"I've got a hell of a scar as a souvenir," she adds as the elevator reaches the ground floor and they exit.

"I bet you have." He nods, the two of them stopping to talk once they're out of the lift.

"Thankyou, Leon. For coming back for me. For figuring it out and taking down the Queen Bee."

"Of course, was Redfield that fired the killer shot though," always humble.

"He's been dying to use that thing," she laughs. It wasn't broken out for much, the previous BSAA agent that fired it all but missed her target and took out four whole buildings. It was a risky weapon to bring to the table.

"I'm sure. Would have been a bit embarrassing if the Parasite bitch hadn't been under there after all." He chuckles.

"Well, you've always had amazing instincts. Like a sixth sense, so I hear." She pats his arm.

"Pure talent."

"Smug." She laughs.

"So no more Leon Kennedy in the field, huh?" She asks a moment later.

He clucks his tongue in his mouth, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Nope. I'm done. Got one too many people hurt or killed."

"Leon.." she shakes her head, "You can't take all that on board. You lose a few, but you save billions."

"And yet somehow I can't seem to make losing the 'few' okay in my head. Maybe I'm not as cut out for this as I thought."

"That's crap. You were born for this."

"That's what Redfield said."

"Yeah, well.." she nods and folds her arms, "he's right about everything so.." she drifts off into a laugh.

"You call me, okay? If you need 'advising'. Or a hero to talk you through."

"I will. Absolutely." Jill agrees.

"It's great to see you, Valentine."

"Was an honor working with you, Kennedy." She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, a business like hand shake that turns in to another gentle hug.

* * *

His alarm beeps at 6am, waking him from a whiskey induced sleep and dragging him to a mean hangover. He pushes himself up with a deep groan and he runs his hand over his face, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Everything ached, as it always did. His body had taken such a beating over the years, he should probably go see a chiropractor some time. He forces himself up and in to the shower, then gets himself dressed in black jeans and a navy shirt. Blue had always been his color, it brought out his eyes, so every woman that saw him in it told him.

He gathers his stuff, picks up a coffee and heads to the airport. Mercifully, things go his way. Smooth check ins, an easy flight, no screaming children to make his hangover headache all the worse.

By the time he's pulling up outside the ranch his hangover is a memory and he's eager to tell her what was decided back in D.C. He grabs his things and heads inside, coming through the door to find her sat at the kitchen table, her face in her hands, sobbing.

"Ana?!" he races to her side, crouching down beside her, "what happened?"

"My Mom.." she blurts out, turning and all but falling in to his arms. She'd caught him when he fell, it was his turn to catch her. He does it without hesitation, gathering her up and forgetting everything else for the time being. He didn't need to ask what happened, he knew. Her Mother had been sick for a long time, getting weaker and weaker. It had just been a matter of when. Of course, the world decided to stick the knife in and do it while he was away.

She cries her heart out, there on the kitchen floor. He comforts her as best he can and eventually she's able to pick herself up. Drying her eyes, he gets her a glass of water and they sit at that kitchen table that so far in their relationship had seen more blood and tears than any normal kitchen table ever would. There was a lot to do. Friends to tell, body to be buried. The fields around here were becoming grave yards.

"Use my phone, fuck driving hours in to town to tell people." He slides the thing across to her and she gazes at it, then blinks herself around from her daze, looking back to him.

"How did D.C go?" She asks in a weary, tear thickened voice.

"Good.. it was good. They're going to take me off active field duty, I'll be an advisor and trainer. I can do the advising from anywhere, but.. I'll need to be in D.C two weeks of the month."

"Oh.." she nods, trying to take it all in. Under usual circumstances she'd have been thrilled with that outcome, but right now her heart hurt too much to process, which he understands. "Well that's good, right?"

"Its perfect." He nods.

She takes a sip of her water and seems to gaze around the house like it was unfamiliar now.

"Come with me." He throws it out there and she looks back to him with a frown.

"What?"

"When I go back. Come with me."

"I.. I can't. The ranch."

"People can take care of the ranch. I have to figure some things out in D.C, and I want you with me."

"Leon.." she breathes out the slightest laugh, looking at him like he's crazy. "I thought you said nobody could know I exist?"

"That was before. Now I'm not the one facing down insane terrorists anymore. It doesn't matter." He gives her a smile.

She covers her face with her hands, another laugh that turns in to renewed sobs. His face falls.

"Its just an idea."

"Its not that.." she explains, lowering her hands again and grabbing the tissue that sat by her elbow, "I just..." she trails off.

"Just what?"

"Happy you're here." She smiles and despite the tears and sadness, she lights up the whole goddamn room. This woman had changed his life, now he planned on dedicating it to making her smile.

He finally knew what he'd been fighting for for so many years.


	12. Archangel

**Authors Note:** Bit of an odd chapter, this one. But a really important one. Let the games begin.

* * *

 **"So you got an arms dealer on one side, and on the other, a government dropping bombs on weddings. Who's the bad guy here again?"**

 **\- Leon Kennedy, Resident Evil: Vendetta**

* * *

It was a strange, busy month of transition for Leon and Ana. As they said goodbye to her Mother, he took a little time out from planning his move within the DSO for her to mourn and him to comfort. When she began to lift from the haze of grief, they set about working out how they could make life work between Montana and D.C. Despite the fact they'd pretty much lived together for the past almost four months, they were both still aware it was early days in a relationship. A relationship had by two people that weren't used to relationships, no less. You'd think the waters would be harder to navigate, but for the most part their personalities complimented one another perfectly, and things were relatively smooth sailing.

It had come up, of course. The idea that she should leave the Ranch. Head back in to the cities, move on now that she had no real need to be out there alone while he was gone. But that had been dismissed, she didn't want to sell her childhood home and buying a place together this early on seemed like a curse waiting to happen. They trod carefully, but no matter what cropped up to test them, they always seemed to pull through.

He was sent new orders, a new schedule. There was a lot of negotiating and one more thing left to do. He had to head back to D.C, sign a lease on a new place and put the same signature down on a brand new contract with the Division of Security Operations. It was all decided, it just needed making official. With her Mothers funeral taken care of and her things lovingly stored away, Ana had finally agreed to take a break from the Ranch and come to D.C with him. After all, the place he'd found he hoped she'd come stay in too, from time to time. They could make this work between the two places, they just had to be grown ups. Something he was finding surprisingly easy these days.

Amazing what not killing things for a while could do for the soul.

He'd decided to go ahead and sell his old D.C apartment, it was small, basically just a place for him to sleep when he was in the city. It was also way too close to where that bomb had gone off and he'd lost an entire SWAT team. The weight of that still sat heavy inside, another guilt he couldn't shake, and the fewer reminders of it the better. Considering you could see the rebuild site directly from the apartment window, he was sure he didn't want to keep it. So instead he'd looked at bigger places on the outskirts of the city. When you put your life on the line for a living, you're compensated pretty fucking well, so the money factor wasn't too much of an issue. He'd be lying if he wasn't thinking a little ahead though, who knows what the new place might end up being.

For the first time in his life he was thinking about a future, and it felt really – really damn good.

Ana was anxious about returning to a big city, the last time she'd been in one a literal fucking zombie had tried to eat her face. Despite having lived in them for years, that one incident had left her scarred and the thought of going back to busy streets full of nameless, faceless people left her cold. Especially knowing what she knew now, that there were even worse things out there. That at any given time some crazed terrorist could unleash another virus or creature and it would be more likely a city was targeted than some ranch in the mountains. She was afraid, but at the same time she wanted to do it because it meant a lot to him. To both of them. If they wanted to make this work, they needed to be adults.

He senses her fear, though. Moving up behind her as she finishes packing things for a few days, he places his hands on her tense shoulders and begins a little rub. "Relax," he murmurs near to her ear, and it brings a smile to her face, a soft laugh escaping.

"I'm doing my best."

"I know," he nods, lifting his head and resting his chin on the top of hers. He stops the massage and wraps his arms around her like he was about to airlift her out of a dangerous situation. Old habits, they died really hard. "Only be for a couple of days."

"I'm being ridiculous," she agrees with a laugh. "The shit you've seen and I'm freaking out over one.. thing."

"Hey, coming face to face with something like that is life changing. Believe me, I know. I freaked out too the very first time."

"You did?" she folds a tank top carefully.

"Oh yeah, first day on the job as a cop and I got corpses walking in to the barrel of a gun. I didn't know what the hell was happening, or what to do. How I got through that first hour I don't know. Then something just clicked.. survival instinct I guess." He thinks back, it was all a blur, but he remembered that very first rotten face clearly. You never forget your first, so they say.

"At least you had a survival instinct, I just fell apart.." she sighs.

"If you'd fallen apart you wouldn't be here. You fought it." He reminds, releasing her from his hug and gently turning her to face him. "You had the instinct to survive, you fought it off until someone could help you." He nods, "you're a survivor too."

"But I.."

"It's not an argument, Ana. It's a fact. You got through it. And it's not going to happen again, I promise."

"You can't promise that," she shakes her head with a small laugh.

"I can promise I'll be there if it did."

She smiles at him, "well see now I feel safer than ever."

He gives her a wink and a playful smack on the ass, making her yelp. "Pack, we got fifty minutes."

"Don't rush me!" she exclaims as he heads for the door.

He rolls his eyes as he heads into the hallway, "women."

He manages to get her out of the house by their deadline and they make the long drive to the airport. On the way, she fusses about every detail. Had she left the right keys with the right people, had she left the right feed instructions for the horses and other animals. He ends up having to silence her with a kiss at a set of traffic lights, telling her she didn't have to worry about zombies, she'd just plain stress herself into an early grave if she carried on. It makes her laugh and she pulls her shit together, by the time they're boarding the plane she's about ready for a cocktail or two though.

Oh yeah, she did drink now and then. She wasn't completely against it. Once on board, he orders whiskey and she opts for a vodka and coke. It takes him by surprise a bit, but whatever got her through it.

When they reach Washington she's had enough that she's relaxed and even a bit giggly, it takes the edge off and she deals with the herds of people a lot better than she would have without it. She could understand why people turned to drink to cope with life sometimes, especially in the cities. Big cities were terrifying, she couldn't remember how she'd used to so easily live in them. D.C was not one she'd ever visited before so she greets it with a kind of wide eyed fascination, aided by the vodka.

"So this is my actual car.." he gestures to a reserved spot in the parking lot. A spot saved for those that worked for very important people, like the government. She looks at it with a slack jaw.

"Oh this is SO you.." she laughs, glancing over at him. The blacked out Dodge SRT Demon sat like a metal beast waiting to strike. It was his pride and joy and he so rarely got to play with it these days.

"What can I say, I like em fast and loud," he winks at her and opens up the drivers side. Her jaw drops and she threatens to throw her coffee at him.

So it wasn't the most practical car if you had a lot of stuff to move around, but they fit their bags in and she gets in to the passenger side. She was unsure what they were actually going to be doing now, she assumed checking in to a hotel. Her thoughts are interrupted by the engine of this beast starting up, it was a noise that went right through you in an adrenaline rush kind of way. She can't help but laugh, looking over to him with a bite of her lip. In his element, he was even cuter. But she doesn't say so.

As they drive through the city he points out a few landmarks, the most important being the building he worked in. She stares out of the window and up at the tall structure in awe. It looked like a fortress, imposing it's black glassed dominance over the city. The armed guards at the front doors were an intimidating touch. There were logos on a wall outside, a few she recognized and a few she didn't. One of them was the BSAA logo, she'd encountered that in New York, and again on the bodies of the others in his helicopter crash. Another looked a lot like the old red Umbrella logo she'd seen in papers, only it was blue. That was confusing. "Which floor is yours?" she asks.

"Eight through ten." He answers, drumming his fingers on the wheel as they wait at lights near by. "Little over half way up."

"What's at the top?" She asks curiously.

"Very.. very rich people." He answers with a mysterious chuckle.

"Let me guess, its classified." She turns a grin to him.

"Pretty much."

She gives him a little salute and goes back to staring out around the city.

As they continue she spots an area that's under heavy construction, and she notices the way his jaw tenses as they pass it. She says nothing, but gazing at the way the side of one building still seemed to be in a state of demolition, she had to assume that was where the bomb had gone off. It was so close to the building he would be working at, it made her a little nauseous. Though she was fairly sure it had the same effect on him. Without a word, she reaches over and rests a hand lightly on his thigh, offering that little bit of strength and comfort she had so many times before.

"Where are we going?" she asks as they start to leave the city.

"You'll see." He flashes her a smile.

It doesn't take long to reach quieter, more suburban areas, and soon they're driving out in open countryside. He eventually turns up a smaller road and then swings them to a gated drive. She shoots him a look. "Where are we?"

He leans out of the window and punches in a code, the gates swing open slowly and he looks back to her.

"Home, while we're in D.C." He answers with smile.

She gives him another wide eyed look and he shrugs. "Figured we'd need more space than my old apartment, and you hate the city. So.. this seemed a good middle ground."

She looks from him and to the house in a mix of amazement and panic. "You didn't buy this?!" She exclaims.

"Breathe," he chuckles, "renting it, but you never know." He adds.

"You are a never-ending surprise, Mr Kennedy.." she shakes her head.

"Like it?" he asks as he quiets the car.

"It looks amazing." She enthuses.

Getting out, they grab their things and he gives her the tour. It was a fully furnished, sweet little country looking place. Modern inside, but with enough of a rustic accent for her to feel at home. It even had a fireplace, which she'd told him at some point was a thing she never wanted to live without.

"It even has this thing called a TV!" he exclaims, switching it on with the remote. She laughs and throws a cushion from the couch at him.

"Not all of us need Televisions to numb our brains," she taunts him.

"I need all the numbing I can get." He retorts with a laugh, grabbing the cushion and bringing it back over as some comedy show plays canned laughter in to the room. "Place has a phone too. So if things happen, we can get hold of each other easily."

"What are you expecting to happen?" she asks with a grin as he climbs onto the couch and looms over her.

"I don't know.. stuff. Still figuring out what goes on in a normal, adult relationship."

She blushes, her smile bright as he nudges her legs apart with his knees. "That's what we're in, hm?" she asks as he dips his head to kiss her shoulder.

"I think we are." He mumbles against her neck as he tilts his head to kiss that instead. She closes her eyes, letting her hands drift over his sides.

Their first night in their new place just outside of a big, scary city. He eases her right in to it. They make love on that couch and then order pizza. She hadn't had take-out pizza in years, and she had to admit, it was really really good. And the TV wasn't so bad, she could get used to it.

The next morning a man arrives with paperwork. She stays out of the way as Leon handles signing things and whatever else went in to renting a whole house. She'd only ever had to deal with grubby little landlords in some of the worst boxes passing as apartments she could find, they were cheap, and she'd never much cared where she rested her head. Each city used to be an experience, a job, a constant adventure. She used to be so full of that wonder that came with exploring, but now it terrified her. How had one experience stopped her in her tracks, while he'd overcome so many?

She's cradling a cup of tea and thinking about this when he wanders back in to the kitchen, dropping some papers down and smiling at her. He had his phone in his other hand and she frowns at it, lifting her mug to her lips. "Something important?"

He puts the phone on the counter and draws in a breath, "How would you like to go to a very dull party?" He asks.

Her eyebrows jump. "Sounds wild," she laughs at his description. "What is it?"

"Just spoke with my Boss – not The President," he clarifies as her face takes on a bit of a look, "he's got a full day today, but there's some event tonight. Charity thing. He said to come along and we could take care of the new contract there."

"Oh.." she looks a bit hesitant, "That sounds... expensive."

"I hate these things, I avoid them as much as possible. But when you're trying to convince them to create a whole new job position just for you, I guess it's a good idea to play the game." He pours a coffee.

She nods slowly, lost in thought. "But if I go that means they'll officially know.. I exist."

He looks back at her. "Yeah, they will."

"Is that.. I mean.." she bites on her thumb nail, a bad habit when she was anxious.

"I told you. I'm not the one going out and pissing off terrorists anymore. I'm done with that.. it's okay." He gives her a reassuring smile, "besides, there's some people I'd like you to meet."

She supposed he'd met all of the people that were important in her life. It was about time she met some that were important in his.

"Alright," she says with a smile and that twinkle in her eye that made him weak, "lets do it."

She had nothing to wear for an expensive charity event, and neither did he. But it turned out if you had connections in high up government places, you could get such things delivered right to your door. Ana finally meets one of the people in Leon's life. Her name was Ingrid Hunnigan, friend and apparently his handler when he was on assignments. She'd seen him through more life threatening situations than he cared to count and had apparently even attempted to date not long after his ordeal in Spain. It hadn't worked out, but they'd remained friends and colleagues through the years. Acting on this occasion as friend rather than colleague, she brings a choice of three dresses for her, and two suits for him.

It had been a long, long time since she'd last had cause to do a full face of makeup and anything with her hair beyond pulling it up in to a messy knot or pony. But she does her best, remembering some of the old tricks she'd learned back in her dancing days, she gets her hair up off of her neck in a fancy bun and leaves a few wispy strands to frame her face. A darker lip that usual, and heavier eyes that make them sparkle. She finishes with a black dress that skimmed the floor even with heels, and draped around her figure in the most flattering way, while leaving her shoulders bare. Ingrid had picked really, really well. She takes one last look in the mirror and is happy with what she sees. Hopefully it was enough for an expensive black tie charity event.

How strange that this was her life now. A million miles from the ranch. Or any other life she had lived so far.

As she smooths her hands over the flat front of her dress, he appears in the mirror behind her. Handsome in his suit, the navy shirt bringing out his stormy eyes. He pauses as he takes her in, she was beautiful all the time, but tonight she looked like a Goddess.

"Is it okay?" she asks, a little worried it might not be the right kind of look.

"Okay?" he returns the question with a little frown, moving up close enough to slip his hand around her waist, "you look incredible." He murmurs, bowing his head to kiss her shoulder. She smiles, closing her eyes as he began to trail those kisses up to her neck.

"Behave, or we'll never make it to the party." She giggles.

"Screw the party."

"Your friends in the living room!" She whispers, fending him off playfully. With a grumble he concedes and she turns to adjust his collar. "You're going full James Bond tonight, huh?"

"Hopefully I wont have to jump out of any windows." He quips.

"I hope not!"

"Will depend on the food."

She laughs, "you would hurl yourself out of a window due to bad food."

"I totally would." He agrees, giving her a wink.

She grins and then takes a deep breath, puffing her cheeks out. "Nervous."

"Don't be. Just a bunch of stuffy old people with way too much money. We won't have to deal with em much, and I hear they roped in Redfield so you get to meet my Brother in Arms and we'll just hang at the 'way too cool' table." He promises.

"Alright, I think I can handle that." She nods.

One last kiss and they gather up Ingrid and hit the road.

* * *

"I haven't felt this uncomfortable since I had the shits in the jungle," Chris Redfield glowers across the table and makes their small, tucked away group laugh. They'd arrived at the party and Leon had shaken every hand offered his way. Ana felt like they'd met a thousand people already although very few of them were actually people Leon knew. She felt daunted and out of her element and a little self conscious in this dress. But then she'd been introduced to Chris Redfield, and suddenly the high class tension of the evening was all but shattered.

The man was a hulking wall of a human being and loudly voiced his displeasure at being forced in to a suit and to attend these things on his week off. Who were they trying to impress exactly?

While Leon effortlessly straddled the void between soldier and charming gentleman, Redfield was very much all soldier. She liked him, he seemed like a real and down to earth person and she could see why Leon spoke highly of him. She couldn't imagine the bond that must happen between two people when you lived through the things they had lived through. Luckily, Chris seemed to like her too. When Leon had introduced them he'd taken her hand and given her the warmest smile. Telling her she must be either blind or a saint to put up with 'This asshole'. It was all good humor though, and it had helped her relax in to the evening a little more.

Now, sat around a table of people Leon considered friends, she felt more at ease. Listening to their stories, she got a real sense of the brotherhood and camaraderie that happened between people that put their lives on the line so selflessly.

"Well, I did warn you about eating that food," Leon looks at Chris over the rim of his beer bottle.

"Yeah but you're such an old lady, you fuss about everything."

"And I was right." Leon reminds.

"Yeah yeah. I'll be sure to call you next time I need a jungle food guide." Chris ribs good naturedly. He knew about the man's decision to step down from active duty, and he respected it. This time last year he'd honestly been considering it himself, and he was still on the lookout for someone he might be able to train to take his place. As much as he didn't like to admit it, they really couldn't do this forever.

"Or y'know, if you need someone to help you with target practice." Leon shrugs casually.

Chris' hackles raise and he puts down his whiskey glass. "You cocky little shit. I'll bury you on the shooting range."

"Suuuure you will. What was the excuse last time, you got something in your eye?"

"I can't help if people don't clean the fuckin' place."

"You can't clean the air," Leon reminds, "its just air, and somehow there was enough dust in that air for you to miss."

"You better hope I miss in a second." Chris warns.

"I wouldn't miss, even with dust in my eye.. all I'm saying."

"They're like this all the time," Ingrid leans over and assures Ana, who was a little wide eyed at the exchange.

"Good to know."

"They might even have enough drinks they end up fighting outside, but it's alright. We just leave them to it."

Ana laughs and Ingrid gives her a wink. The jovial mood around the table quickly collapses however, as an older looking man arrives at Chris' side and addresses everyone. It was Leon's 'Not the President' Boss, James Hoult.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to borrow Mr Kennedy for a moment, little bit of business to attend to." He says with a kindly smile.

Leon leans over to Ana and tells her he'll be back in a few minutes, and just like that, he's gone. As the chatter continues among friends at the table, Ana takes the opportunity to escape to the restroom.

Red wine had gone to her head and she was nursing a little bit of a headache now. Making her way in to the marble and gold women's bathrooms, she pauses and leans against the doors for a moment, closing her eyes and just taking a few breaths. This world was so foreign to her, it was a lot to take in.

Pulling herself together she heads to the counters and examines her reflection, taking the opportunity to fix her makeup, she reapplies her lip and hears the click of heels on the tile floor behind her. She drops her lipstick back into her small purse and looks up, seeing a woman in the reflection of the mirror, standing behind her. She gives her a little smile and proceeds to wash her hands.

"Thats a pretty dress," the woman purrs in a sultry tone that catches Ana a little off guard. She looks back at the reflection and smiles again.

"Thankyou." The other woman had striking features, piercing eyes and shoulder length, jet black hair. She wore a figure hugging red dress that barely came half way down her thigh and black heels with straps that went all the way up to her knee. One side of the dress sported a swirling pattern in black, a thorny rose, and she had bright red lips the same shade as the fabric. "Yours is lovely."

"I know," the woman answers, drawing up closer. Uncomfortably close. Ana grabs a paper towel and dries her hands.

The other woman lifts one of hers, her perfectly manicured nails painted black, she tucks the loose hair from Ana's bun back off of her neck. "You are really something." That purred voice comes again. She feels her stomach tie in knots, frozen to the spot and unsure what to do.

"I.. thankyou. Can I help you with something?" She meets the other woman's gaze in the mirror.

"I can see what he sees in you." She says with a smile.

Ana feels a bit like she might throw up. "Who are you?"

That wicked little smile widens. "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is who you are. And if you're able to take what comes with a man like Leon Kennedy."

Ana draws in a breath and pulls away from her, turning to face her properly. The other woman folds her arms in such a slow and deliberate way, something about it reminded Ana of the movement of a preying spider. "If you're trying to warn me about his job, then you must not have the memo. He's no longer a field agent. He retired."

"They never retire. This isn't a life that lets you go without a fight. And it isn't terrorists you need to worry about." The other woman takes a deliberate step closer and Ana backs up one, gritting her teeth.

"What are you, some crazy ex come to threaten me? That's so tired." Ana growls a little

"Not at all. Though your fear drips off you like a bad perfume, which tells me already that you aren't ready for this."

"Ready for what?" Ana holds her stare, not backing down.

"I like you. A part of me hopes you make it," The other woman says cryptically after studying her for a few moments, then begins backing away, "Good luck."

With that, she turns and breezes out of the bathroom, leaving Ana pressed up against the wall with her heart thudding in her chest.

Out in the ballroom, Leon finishes putting his name on the final dotted line and caps the pen, handing it back to James. A further hand shake and he excuses himself, heading back to the table he'd been sharing with Ana, Redfield and the others. Reaching it, he immediately notices she isn't there.

"She went to bathroom right after you left.." Ingrid explains with a little frown.

"That was almost fifteen minutes ago." He glances in the direction of the restrooms, just in time to see Ana emerge from them. She looked pale, like she'd seen a ghost. He hurries over to her, reaching her and gently taking her arm.

"You feeling okay?" He asks.

"I..." she blinks, looking up at him and then around the hall, trying to see if she could spot the mysterious woman in red. No sign of her. "I just had some woman threaten me."

"What?!" He scowls.

"She said she wanted to know if I could handle what came with being with a man like you.." she repeats, her voice a little shaken. "And that.. she hoped I was ready for this."

"Ready for what? What did she look like?" Leon demands.

"I don't know! She had black hair.. shoulder length. And a red dress."

Leons jaw tightens. "Ada."

Instantly his eyes are scanning the room for any sign of her, then he looks back to Ana. "Go back to the table, tell Chris. Stay with him."

"Leon what's going on?"

"I don't know yet."

With that, he takes off. Leaving her standing in a state of shock. She shakes it off and does as he tells her, hurrying back to the table and telling Chris exactly what happened. The reaction of the full time soldier isn't any more comforting than Leon's.

Leon meanwhile leaves the main ballroom and breaks in to a jog, letting instinct guide him he slams in to the fire escape doors and out in to the cool night. Looking over the rail, sure enough he sees her, that flash of red as she disappears down an alleyway. He doesn't waste a second, it was only the second floor, so he simply jumps over the barrier to the street below, landing like a cat and immediately giving chase. Down to the end of the alleyway, it split off in two directions. Nothing right, so he looks left. Sure enough, that telltale red.

"ADA!" He yells after her. She stops in her tracks, turning to face him with that sultry smile on her face.

"You'll get that nice suit all dirty, running around out here." She warns, producing something from the cleavage of her dress.

"What do you want?!" he demands, advancing toward her, "you leave Ana the fuck alone."

"Merely a warning." Ada backs up a step as he draws closer, "I have no interest in your love."

"The fuck does that mean?" He snaps.

She drops something down on to the ground and then produces that irritating fucking hookshot from god knows where.

"Don't! Ada! Talk to me!" He breaks in to a jog again. Too late. She fires the grapple and leaps from his life once again. He looks up as she goes, landing on the roof of the nearby building and looking down at him.

"Take care, Leon." She calls down to him. Then she's gone.

"ADA!" He shouts again. It was useless. He growls and kicks a trash can, then turns around, looking for whatever it was she had dropped. He spots it on the ground and bends over to pick it up. It looked like a Tarot card. An ornate pattern across the one side of it. "The fuck is this?" He murmurs, turning it over in his hand. On the other side is a print of a painting. The Archangel Michael spearing Lucifer. It was a classic, painted by Guido Reni. The same one that hung between paintings of Gabriel and Raphael outside the office of James Hoult.

On the bottom, Ada had simply written 'Archangel' and signed it with a red lipstick mark.

"Why can she never just tell me what the fuck she means?" He snaps, looking up and glaring at the sky. He pockets the card, turning and returning to the party.

Back inside, he finds Chris and Ana waiting just outside the main Ballroom.

"Is everything okay?" Chris asks.

"Ada, leaving her cryptic bullshit again," Leon grumbles, reaching Ana and pulling her into his arms.

"What this time?" Chris asks. Leon pulls the card from the pocket of his jacket and shows it to him. Chris takes it, studying it.

"I know this painting."

"Me too."

"Its in.."

"The DSO offices." Leon finishes.

"I swear I've seen it somewhere else." Chris frowns, "aside from museums." He adds, then runs his thumb along the inscription. The two men share a look over Ana's head. Neither of them knew what it meant, but if Ada was leaving messages and warnings, then she obviously had a reason. She never did anything without a reason.

"I'm gonna take her home." Leon decides. Ana seemed pretty shaken up and truth be told, she really was. It hadn't helped her dislike of big cities.

"Alright, I'll let you know if I turn anything up." Chris agrees.

With that, Leon's leading Ana back to the parking lot. "Don't panic, okay?" He says soothingly as they get in the car.

"Don't panic?! I just had some woman tell me she hoped I was ready! Ready for what?!" Ana snaps at him, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I don't know, but we'll find out."

"Who is she?"

"That is such a long story."

"Well start explaining!" She almost shouts at him. Leon turns in his seat and lifts his hands to her face, gently bringing her eyes to focus on his.

"Ana. She's one of the good guys."

"She is?" she asks in a small voice, "she didn't seem like it."

"She's always helped me. She's even saved my life once or twice."

"She's an agent?"

"She's..." he swallows, "she's something. Truth is I don't know who she works for, none of us do. All I know is for over fifteen years she's fought beside me, she's guided my way and she's saved my life. So whatever this is.. this warning?" He looks her sternly in the eye, "the threat isn't from her. She's just... she can be a bit of a bitch in the way she words things."

Ana lets out a small laugh, "you can say that again."

"We'll figure it out. I need you to breathe, alright?" He gently leans his forehead against hers and she closes her eyes, doing just that. "That's my girl." He says quietly.

* * *

Its 2am when Leon's phone rings in the dark quiet of their bedroom. Ana stirs and he quickly reaches out, grabbing it and answering, he eases out of bed and through in to the bathroom, closing the door.

"Can you talk?" Redfield asks.

"Yeah, whatcha got?" Leon leans against the sink.

"I remembered where I last saw that painting. There were three of them. Michael slaying Lucifer, and two others. Angels."

"Gabriel, Raphael.." Leon responds.

"I thought Raphael was a fucking Ninja Turtle?"

Leon rolls his eyes, "have you ever read.. I don't know.. a book?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Leon lifts his hand to his brow and pinches the bridge of his nose. His hangover was already kicking in. "Where have you seen the paintings?"

Chris sighs. "In an office."

"Other than the DSO?"

"Yeah," Chris sounded a little apprehensive.

"Redfield.. where?"

"At Blue Umbrella."

Leon suddenly needs another drink.


	13. Make a Wish

**Authors Note:** Okay so this is pretty important. No, this isn't turning in to a religious story. It's more about the symbolism and Resident Evil was always about using symbols in things. To that end, I am fully aware that the subject matter in the opening of this chapter may be controversial and you may not agree with it. There are many - many different tellings of this story, depending on which religion you follow or study, if any. I have chosen one, and put my own creative spin on it. I myself am not a religious person, but I respect all who are. Please remember this is a fantasy, just a story, and absolutely no disrespect is meant.

That being said, this is both an important chapter and one that moves things along. We have a bunch of time to pass, so I'm hopefully doing it in chunks that let us in to their world and the important moments, but also don't linger so long it begins to drag on the small stuff. Insanity awaits.

* * *

 **It's where you live, but you don't know how it's built**  
 **If we're just dust, then it doesn't matter who you kill**  
 **Don't cut me up and tell me that it's okay**

 **Just turn it off 'cause I don't care anyway**

 **\- Brand New 'Lit me Up'**

 _ **If this story had a theme, this would be it**_

* * *

In the beginning there were eight. The Archangels were God's first creation and within that hallowed group, four sat at Gods right hand. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Samael. Once God was finished creating the heavens and its angelic inhabitants, he turned his attention to creating mankind on earth. When this happened, one of the powerful Archangels, Samael, took exception to the fact that God seemed to favor humans over his original creations – giving man the gift of free will. Something that the Angels were not granted. Samael – Also known as 'The Venom of God' - rebelled and his distaste for humans turned to hate. He was cast out of Heaven at God's command, by the remaining Archangels.

Other Angels fell and joined a rebellion against Heaven, their domain became known as Hell. Samael's bitter and twisted vision influencing man as he sought to corrupt and destroy them still. Forever furious, war would rage between Heaven and Hell for all eternity.

Each Archangel had a purpose. They were God's warriors, carrying out his commands in service of the greater good for mankind. If he wanted a plague wrought as punishment, God sent an Archangel. A flood? That was their work too. They rained down fire, fury and retribution upon those that defied Gods command and teachings. Far from the radiant beings of peace and light depicted in paintings and books, they were savage and ruthless, always with one wing dipped in blood. Knowing this, would you ever really want to meet an Archangel?

For the life of him, Leon Kennedy couldn't figure out what the fuck Archangels had to do with him. Or why there were paintings of them hanging up in important offices. He'd always thought it was just because the old men in charge had a strange taste in artwork and decorating, religion had never had much of a place in the world of Biological Warfare. But if Ada was leaving clues, then there was something more to it that he just wasn't seeing. The fact that according to Chris Redfield, the paintings also hung in the offices of Blue Umbrella now, left Leon with a cold stone settled in his stomach. He just couldn't seem to fit the pieces together.

"Happy Birthday."

Ana's sing song voice breaks through his thoughts and he looks up from the book on Angelic lore he'd found stashed in her fathers study, smiling at her as she enters the bedroom in her little shorts and tank top, carrying a cupcake with a single burning candle.

"You remembered," he chuckles as she reaches the bed and climbs on to it.

"Of course I did." She smiles. He closes the book and places it to the side as she shuffles over to him on her knees and then straddles his lap. His hands run lightly over her thighs and come to settle on her hips. It had been a long two weeks. His first without her in a while. After they'd returned from D.C in the wake of Ada's antics, he'd only had a couple of days at the Ranch before he was due back at work. This time, she'd opted not to come. Still shaken up by what had happened, she preferred the quiet solitude of the place she grew up, and he couldn't really argue with that.

He'd found himself in charge of teaching new recruits how to do what he did. It was strange, and rewarding when you started to see growth, and a little frustrating when you watched one of them run a simulated scenario and continually get themselves killed. Some of them had great instincts for it, he saw plenty of potential in those. But some of them seemed to have the awareness of a garden gnome, just standing hopelessly as a holographic Licker charged at them. It was scarily real, he understood that, but if they couldn't get their shit together in front of a damn simulation, they were nothing but cannon fodder out in the field.

Lets just say he'd done a lot of yelling, and now he was glad to be back at the sanctuary of the Ranch. Just in time for his 41st Birthday.

As she kneels over him, she softly sings him the birthday song. It makes him grin, nobody had sung that to him in years. Most Birthdays over the past five or six had been spent on assignments and not acknowledged by anybody but Ingrid.

When she finishes her little solo, she holds the cupcake up for him to blow out the candle.

"Make a wish," she reminds.

He looks her in the eye, their gazes holding for a few seconds, then gently blows out the tiny flame.

"What'd you wish for?" She asks with an intrigued twinkle in her pretty eyes.

"I can't tell you that." He plucks the candle from the cupcake and sucks the frosting from the end of it.

"Ohhh, must be something important." She purrs, swiping a fingertips through the buttercream and lifting it to her mouth. He rumbles somewhere deep in his throat as she sucks the sweet, sugary substance from her finger, never taking her eyes off of him.

"I forgot already," he lies, his hands slipping around from her waist to her ass.

"That'll be the old age setting in," she grins, swiping a little more of the frosting from the cupcake and this time bringing her fingertip to his mouth. He obliges, gladly ridding her of the icing and then leaning forward to take a bite of the cupcake as she offers it.

They end up in a sticky, frosting coated kiss and between kisses, manage to eat the whole cupcake. There were more downstairs, she'd made them herself. But cake quickly became the last thing they were interested in. Especially as she begins to kiss her way down along his stomach, heading south. He settles back, enjoying the sensations and tucking his hands in to her hair.

It's a really, really Happy Birthday.

As they lie in their naked afterglow, he feels the most overwhelming sense of contentment. His chin settled upon the top of her head, where she rested against his chest, her hand lightly on his ribs. He runs his fingers through her hair, an idle and soothing thing. They were quiet, she just listens to the sound of his steadily beating heart. Sometimes you didn't need words to let someone know how you felt about them.. but then.. sometimes you did.

"I love you." he says softly.

The smile she lifts to him could light up the darkest room, he never wanted to be without it again.

"I love you too," she returns the admission. It was finally out there. Maybe it was fast, maybe five months was too quick to feel like you knew such a thing, but they just did. Felt it with everything they were. When she returns the words to him, that feeling of contentment just grows.

That day was the best Birthday he'd had in a long, long time.

* * *

Shattered glass crunches under his boot as he leads his team through ravaged streets. The cities buildings towered over them, broken and burning. All around, the distant sounds of the undead threatening to find them and overwhelm. They were heading to an extract point, they had a single hour before their time was up and the city was wiped off of the map. It's a familiar feeling, he's been here before. Two men down, a remaining four behind him. Two women and two men – rookies - but so far they had held their own. Escaping the labs beneath streets and making their way through what looked very much like the apocalypse. In this business, you had to get used to the sight of destruction.

He comes to a sudden halt, lifting his hand to stop the team behind him. His eyes flick around the surrounding area, they were at a crossroads and that creeping feeling was tingling at the back of his neck. He always trusted it, it had saved his life on more than one occasion. They were being watched.

His hand returns to the assault rifle he held steady and with a slight nod, they change course, taking a side street and getting off of the main road. Moving a little quicker they navigate their way through wrecked alleys and even across the odd garage rooftop. You found your way, no matter what. You either figured out how to get through or you died, that was all there was to it.

The assault is sudden and vicious. The deadly Lickers scrambling down the sides of surrounding buildings and lashing those disgusting tongues at their intended victims. Leon rolls and dodges a strike, ducking under a bus shelter cover and leaning back against the wall, he brings his rifle up and checks the watch on his other wrist. To his side, a Licker crawls along the wall, hunting him. But he's less interested in that and more interested in what his team are doing. Watching them scatter and flank another attacking Licker, riddling it full of bullet holes. Nice. The one to his side lashes at him with its holographic tongue and he gives it an angry side eye.

"Piss off." He snaps. Whoever was in charge of programming the things, switches that one off and it disappears in a flicker of static.

The two women were good. Really good. They worked together in an almost ballet dancer-like way, using their surroundings to their best advantage, and obvious gymnastic skills to avoid the disgusting monsters and take them out. Licker bodies falling like dominoes. He can't help the smirk on his face. Though that smirk fades as one of the men makes a complete rookie mistake, forgetting to check behind him as he crosses two alleyways converging. A Licker leaps from behind him and he's done. The lifeline on his jet black gear switching from green to red as he falls in surprise, it meant the creature would have - in reality – struck a killing blow.

"Idiot." Leon hisses, moving out and back in to battle mode. He dodges tongue strikes from above on instinct and rolls to his feet, coming to the young man's side and holding a hand out to him to help him up. He takes it and Leon hauls him to his feet. "First rule. Always check behind you." He reminds, "get outta here."

With the guy sent off the playing field, Leon catches up to the remaining three. Back out into the streets, the two girls were panting but in good health, the remaining man had an orange line on his gear, signifying he'd been injured in the attack, but not fatally. "You two keep working together like that, you're gonna be just fine." He nods to the two women, "but don't forget about the rest of your team." he thumbs to the injured man. They apologize and he shakes his head. "Don't apologize, you do what you have to to survive. Sometimes that means making really, really shitty decisions. But unless you're dead if you try it, don't leave anyone behind. Look out for each other."

There's a sudden boom behind them and the four of them turn with rifles raised to see a bus explode. The undead not far behind. They had ten more minutes to reach extraction point. Teaching over, they move out. The remaining three were great shots, he was suitably impressed as they push onward toward their goal. But with the end in sight – a helicopter waiting on top of a hospital building – their final challenge awaits.

The ground shakes under them in a rhythmic pattern. Footsteps. Leon turns and from further down a side street, a Tyrant heads straight for them.

In an instant, he's back in time. No weapons, nothing left but a knife as the giant thundered toward him. He was going to die, he was sure of it, but he was going down fighting.

"Leon!" One of the girls shouts at him and snaps him back to reality. Too late, the creatures upon them and with a swinging fist, they're all dead. He notices he'd dropped the rifle, the thing hanging useless at his side. And his heart was pounding. His three team members staring at him, now their suits all displayed red life lines.

"Are you okay?" The redheaded girl asked.

He blinks.

"You completely spaced out..." the blonde adds.

"I uh.." He stammers. He wasn't sure what just happened, it was like he'd left his body. Gone back in time, back to a place of pure terror and adrenaline.

"That's enough for today," another voice comes out over the comms system, the simulation beginning to shut down around them. Holograms fading away leaving nothing but the bare bones shapes of buildings amidst the blank canvas of the huge underground hangar that housed the facility. The three trainees are clearly a little disturbed by what just happened. But none of them more so than him.

"I'm sorry," he says to them eventually, getting himself together. "Though if you lose your team leader, you can't just give up." he adds, pushing through at least some kind of lesson as they begin to make their way toward the exit. "You'd have had to figure out a way to take that thing down, or you'd all be dead."

"How do you take something like that down?" One of them asks.

He draws in a breath, "there was a gas tanker. You aim for that as it passes, you run. With those things you use your surroundings and whatever you can, you keep moving. And.. you pray." He thumbs the button to open the doors in to the elevator that would take them out of there and back into the main building. He felt quite nauseous.

"You've fought one of those?"

"Yeah." He answers quietly, leaning back against the elevator wall as the door closes.

"What happened?"

"Took down one with a tank and some help." He recalls, rubbing his stubble covered chin with his hand, "by the time we got to the other two, he was too injured to move and.. all I had left was a knife."

"For real?"

"Oh yeah."

"How'd you survive?"

"I..." he frowns, "probably wouldn't have. They were gunned down by two fighter jets. Sometimes it's the backup that saves your ass. So always call for it. If you can. Otherwise.."

He trails off.

"So that was like a flashback or something?" The blonde girl asks.

He lifts his head and looks at her, "I guess."

"Jeez. They really messed you up huh."

He'd liked her up until that point. He doesn't answer, the elevators ding and he pushes away from the wall and walks out. Heading straight past the other senior staff waiting for his report and going to the locker room, where he dumps down the gun and shrugs off the tactical vest, then braces his hands against the lockers and bows his head.

Almost twenty years. Never once had he frozen. He had plenty of flashbacks but never in the field, always in some quiet moment when he was home or around Ana. When it was safe to process the bullshit memories that haunted his dreams. Maybe it was because he knew it was a simulation, maybe some part of his brain had acknowledged that fact and allowed the momentary meltdown to happen.

Or maybe he really was just fucked.

He takes a shower, washing off the sweat from the exercise and dressing back in his trademark jeans and leather jacket.

"You want to talk about what just happened?" One of the training staff asks as he leaves the locker room.

"Nope." He answers gruffly, heading back to his office. Yeah, he had one of his own now too. He hadn't done much with it, but it was a place to write his reports on the trainees that came through, and to collect his thoughts now and again. He closes the door behind him and flops into his leather desk chair, putting his feet up on the table and drawing his phone from his inner jacket pocket. He needed something to settle his mind and he flicks through a few of the more recent photos tucked away on it. It had been Ana's Birthday last week, he'd taken her out to dinner here in Washington, she was beginning to relax a little more in the city. There had been no further mention of the Archangel issue, Ada had made no further contact and no matter how much digging he or Chris did, they'd found nothing.

It had to mean something, but whatever that something was, it was well and truly under lock and key.

He smiles at the picture of Ana blowing out a candle on a slice of chocolate cake. It had been a good night. She looked beautiful, but she always did. Sighing, he brings up their home number and presses call, waiting for her to answer. It doesn't take long and when her face pops up on the screen he feels the knots inside his stomach begin to unravel. She had her hair up in a messy knot and she held a paint brush between her teeth. She'd taken to painting when she was in D.C. Needing something to occupy her time without the farm to tend to.

"Hang on a second!" she tells him around the brush, then plucks it from her mouth and turns away, putting it in to a jar of water and then looking back to the screen. "Okay, sorry."

He chuckles. "That's alright, whatcha painting now?"

"Well its supposed to be a daisy but.. I'm not sure. Could be a fried egg." She pulls a face and laughs, "hows your day?"

"Oh.. y'know.." he murmurs, tapping a pen against his desk with his free hand. She frowns.

"You okay?"

"I just froze in the middle of a training session," he admits.

"Oh, what happened?" she looks concerned.

"One second everything was fine, the next... I don't know. Flashback I guess." He felt a little ashamed to own up to it, but it was what it was and she always made him feel safe enough to drop that guard.

"Baby.." she pulls a sad face.

"Good thing I retired, huh." He laughs mirthlessly.

"Well I'm not going to argue, but I wouldn't say PTSD was anything to beat yourself up over." She says sternly, "and that's what it is, you know? No matter how tough you are, the toughest men and women in the world go through this. It just means you're human. And that's a good thing."

"I guess so."

"Well imagine if none of it effected you." She shrugs. "You'd be numb, a robot. In fact you'd kinda be a sociopath." She chuckles.

"I used to wonder if I was. I felt like I went through a lot of this shit not caring."

"You were coping. Sometimes we switch off so we can get through." She reasons.

"Yeah, did a lot of that."

"And now that you're in a place where you can breathe, your mind is paying the price."

"Apparently. Maybe that was it, I knew it was a simulation, so I just kinda..."

"What is it you always tell me? Breathe.." her smile. He lived for that smile.

"I know, I know." He muses.

"What time are you coming home?"

"Couple hours." He nods, "just got some progress reports to write up."

"Cool, anyone good?"

"Got a couple of girls that have been acing everything, today they worked together like a couple of ballet dancers in battle. It was pretty impressive." His enthusing turns to a scowl, "then one of them said I was really messed up."

"Oh.. well. Screw her then." Ana laughs.

"Kids." He rolls his eyes. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Alright, love you." She smiles.

"Love you too." He returns the smile and the sentiment and hangs up. Leaning back in his seat for a while and gazing at the wall, before he pulls his shit together and turns to his computer, setting about putting together the progress reports.

Paperwork was his least favorite task in the world, but he gets it done and printed and in to a folder. Leaving his office, he takes it up to the office of the Director, James Hoult. Expecting to just drop it off at the reception desk, he finds the man himself standing there talking with his secretary.

"Progress reports for the newbies.." he waves the folder and drops it down on to the desk.

"Ahh, good. What do we have?"

"Two.. maybe." He answers.

"Well, two out of six isn't bad."

"They've got a ways to go but they've got the instincts." Leon nods, leaning against the desk. In the background, the paintings of the three Archangels hang proudly on the wall. He can't help but glance at them. Then looks back to Hoult as he leafs through the reports.

"Hm, maybe another Sherry Birkin or two on our hands." He says thoughtfully.

"Maybe." That kid had come on in leaps and bounds within the division. Now that Leon was retired, she and Jake were the shining stars of the DSO. He'd guided them through a handful of field missions so far, they worked like a well oiled unit. Impressing everybody. And they soaked up Leon's advice like sponges. Having known her since she was a tiny thing, he sometimes felt a bit like a proud dad.

"I gotta ask.." Leon changes the subject and lifts a finger, pointing toward the Archangel paintings.

"What's with the paintings?"

"Hm? You don't like artwork Mr Kennedy?" Hoult asks, looking from him to the ornate framed Angels on the wall.

"They just seem a bit out of place."

"Do they?" James returns a look to him.

"In a world of Biological horrors.. yeah. Kinda." Leon shrugs.

"To me they're symbols of hope. Warriors, in our mission to rid the world of those that would stand to destroy what we hold dear." James explains.

"But they're not real." Leon smiles.

The smile on James' face is a strange one. "Perhaps not. But a strong symbol can be motivation enough to change the world."

Leon frowns and James reaches out to pat him on the shoulder.

"You think too much, it's just a painting."

Leon chuckles with him, nodding. "Just weird, Umbrella have them too."

"They do?" James lifts his eyebrows, "well, maybe there was a sale on the prints."

"Ha, maybe."

"Would have thought a warrior like yourself would find the imagery quite moving." James tucks the reports folders under his arm and lifts a hand out to Leon. He takes it, a firm hand shake.

"I'm not a warrior anymore."

"Yes you are. And always will be, its in your blood." James nods, "now, excuse me. Business calls to tend to."

With that, the older man takes his leave. Shutting himself away in his office. Leon remains leaning against the desk for a while, staring at the closed door lost in thought.

"Did you need anything else, Mr Kennedy?" The receptionist asks.

He's jarred from his thoughts and shakes his head, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Nope, I'm good." He flashes her a smile and pushes away, heading down the hall. It doesn't take long to gather his things up and head to the parking lot, where, once inside his car, he picks up his phone again. This time, calling Chris.

No answer. The man had to be on duty somewhere. So with that, Leon drops his phone down on to the seat and turns the key in the ignition, staring up his Demon car with a loud growl of the engine. He loved how it sounded in underground parking lots. Driving it always helped him shed the tension of the day as he made his way home.

At the house, Ana had finished up her painting for the day and left it sitting on its easel beside the window that looked out over the back yard. She'd taken a bubble bath and cleaned the paint from her hands, then set to making dinner. Over the last couple of months they'd settled in to a peaceful pattern, she'd spend two weeks in D.C while friends took care of the Ranch. Leon would work, she would paint and do things to the house, making it more and more 'them'. She still preferred Ranch life, and in that respect Leon had come on in leaps and bounds. He could now lasso a steer from the back of a horse at a flat out gallop. And bringing the cows down from the mountains had been a sight to behold. He was such a cowboy, she was surprised he hadn't taken on the accent to go with it.

They led two very different lives. From rustic Ranchers in Montana to the more modern life in Washington. Switching between the two quite effortlessly. She still didn't spend much time actually in the city, but she was getting to like the place more and more, even if she felt a bit useless when she was here.

She'd joked about taking up dancing again while they were in the city. He'd said he didn't need to be arrested for murder. The giant dork.

She's stirring a spaghetti sauce when he comes in, calling out her name.

"In here!" she calls back to him. Hearing his heavy boots on the tile floor a moment later, he moves up behind her, a familiar hand looping around her waist. He kisses the side of her head.

"Thought I'd make your favorite, sounds like you had a rough d..."

Her mouth snaps shut as his other hand comes around in front of her, holding a glittering, platinum ring with three circular diamonds set in to a layer of shimmering frosting.

"Leon..." She stammers, dropping the wooden spoon she was holding in to the sauce and lifting her hands to her mouth.

"Marry me?" He whispers the question beside her ear.

In case you were wondering, she said yes. And Leon got his Birthday wish.


	14. Tell Me Where It Hurts

**Authors Note:** Hold on to your butts, our biggest time jump yet. Down the rabbit hole we go

* * *

 **I am ready for the road less** **traveled**  
 **Suiting up for my crowning battle**  
 **This test is my own cross to bear**  
 **But I will get there**

 **It's never easy to be chosen**  
 **Never easy to be called**  
 **Standing on the front line when the bombs start to fall**  
 **I can see the Heavens**  
 **But I still hear the flames calling out my name**

 **\- Katy Perry**

* * *

They marry on August 1st, a year to the day from his proposal. The wedding almost as small and as private as his proposal had been. They preferred keeping things between themselves, and while The President himself had sent them gifts and flowers for the day, for the most part only those closest to them even knew it was happening. Of course, around the offices news that Leon Kennedy – once the most eligible bachelor around – was getting married had spread like wildfire. There were quite a few women that gave Ana some pretty wicked glances on the odd occasion she'd come in for one thing or another. She held her own though, she had nothing to be worried about. They had told barely anybody the where's and when's of the big day.

They held it in the Rocky Mountains at a pretty exclusive resort, it was one of his favorite places to escape to when he had the chance and she had never seen it, so it seemed a perfect choice. The day had been hot with a cloudless sky and the ceremony was held outside beside a natural waterfall. He'd worn a suit that made him look like the most dashing James Bond you could ever imagine, and she'd worn a strapless white mermaid cut dress that hugged her figure and skimmed the floor, patterned with diamond jewels around its waist and hips. She'd never felt more beautiful, and he'd never seen her so.

There was no big fanfare, no bands or a hundred bridesmaids or best men. Just the two of them, and among their select handful of friends, Jill Valentine, Chris and Claire Redfield, Ingrid Hunnigan, Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller. People Leon had trusted with his life at one point or another, played witness to him finally really getting to live it that day. For Ana's part, a few friends from the Ranches, and dear old Joe – who gave her away in place of her Dad. Chris Redfields reception speech had them in tears of laughter, the man had a second vocation as a comedian they were sure.

It was as perfect as it could have been, and after a turbulent year, it was a day many in attendance had needed to see. Something to remind them that the battle they found themselves endlessly in, was all worth it. That life continued, and was beautiful, and worth fighting for.

That year had seen the end of Chicago.

The largest ever bio-weapon attack on the country had taken place six months earlier. Raccoon City and Tall Oaks had been huge, but Chicago took it to another level. Despite their best efforts in Alaska, someone else had found and weaponized the Pandora Parasite, crossing it with a virus that unleashed an unholy kind of hell on the city, starting in the Chicago river. On that day, Leon had returned to field duty. The Government had every able body possible on the ground and in the air in an attempt to save the once vibrant city, but the plague spread like wildfire and the Queen grew to three times the size of the one in Alaska once it hit Lake Michigan. In the end, all they could do was contain and destroy. The world watched in horror as one of America's most well known cities was reduced to ash. A huge population lost.

He'd managed to extract around a hundred and fifty people that day, working alongside the people invited to his wedding. Afterward, in the wake of it, as embers glowed and the country mourned – Leon, Jill, Chris, Claire, Sherry and Jake had sat on the side of a road in total silence, watching from afar, unable to comprehend what had happened and how few they'd been able to save. He'd known, the day he saw it in action that the Pandora Parasite was a game changer, he hated being right sometimes.

Less than 12 hours, all it took.

He'd returned home the next day and fallen in to Ana's arms and she'd cried her heart out with him. In the six months since, it felt like the country was trying to rebuild. Messages of hope and protests for peace springing up all around, everywhere you looked. Leon and Ana had thrown themselves in to planning their wedding and building their future. Everybody seemed to need a reminder that life was meant to be lived and these terrorists and their agendas would not win.

The country was of course still on high alert, and the men in charge had even tried to get Leon to postpone the wedding because they couldn't afford the guest list having the time off. The President himself had stepped in and said it was exactly what everybody needed, reminding them life must go on. Leon might not have had the same relationship with the new President as he'd had with Adam Benford, but word of mouth and reputation had sold him highly. Retired from field duty or not, he was still the first one the new President came to when he needed advising on this stuff.

Ana was insanely proud of her now husband. She could never quite convey just how much. He was an incredible, selfless man that despite his demons, battled through them and continued putting others before himself so often. He had thrown himself in to training new agents, in to figuring out strategies and waging this war right back against the people that threatened their home. She saw who he was at work and she loved him for it, but she also got to see the man he was away from it all. Her gentle, kind, haunted love. She felt honoured to be his wife.

They were three days in to their honeymoon, Ana had never left the country before and for her first trip out of it, he'd taken her breath away. Bringing her to an over the water private villa in Tahiti. Crystal blue ocean for as far as the eye could see, cloudless skies and warm sunshine. They'd explored, collected shells on the beach, gone diving and sailed for hours. She'd been a little worried she'd end up seasick, but she'd taken to being on a boat like a fish took to water – so to speak. It was kind of a first for Leon too, he'd travelled around the world on assignments but never really had a chance to see any of the places he visited. For once, he was actually getting his vacation and if anybody dared try to call him in for work, he'd probably turn up at their house with a magnum and an attitude.

They'd gone out for dinner and walked the beach after, eventually returning to their villa. She held her shoes in one hand and his fingers linked with her other. She was dressed in a thigh length white dress over a bikini, and he looked handsome in an unbuttoned white shirt and dark grey combat shorts – because he had to have a touch of soldier in there somewhere. Under the relentless sun his hair had lightened and she could swear in the light here his eyes looked more diamond than they did their usual gunmetal shade. She found herself just gazing at him sometimes, it was one of her favorite things to do. She barely noticed he did the same to her – if she only knew the things she did to him in those bikinis.

She had a body made for as little clothing as possible, but for his eyes only of course.

"Tired?" he asks as she covers a yawn with the back of her hand a few steps away from the door of the villa.

"A little," she smiles up to him, giving his hand a small squeeze. "What we get for getting up and watching the sun rise." She muses. Yeah, they'd done that romantic thing.

He chuckles and leans in, kissing the side of her head then digging the villa key from his pocket, opening it up and letting them in. She drops her beach shoes down at the foot of the bed and flops backward on to it, spreading her arms out wide and wiggling her toes. He wanders over to the bar and pours himself a drink, she declines one when he offers.

"What do you wanna do tomorrow?" He asks, sitting down on the armchair next to the bed and kicking his feet up. She rolls on to her side and looks at him.

"Maybe ride? Saw that you could take out horses here." She suggests.

"Sounds good." he agrees thoughtfully, knocking back a mouthful of whiskey. She gives him a sultry smile and moves on to her hands and knees, putting a little dip in her back. He arches his eyebrow, watching contently.

"Maybe an early night tonight?" She purrs, moving to her knees in front of him and lifting the hem of her dress.

"I feel like you're coming on to me." He deadpans.

"Maaaaybe." She grins, that sparkle in her eye that drove him crazy.

She sways her hips like she was putting on a private dance just for him, and she was. The dress slowly peeled off, she looks down over herself and then flicks her eyes back up to him. Taking hold of the tie between her breasts and slowly pulling, undoing the knot that held her bikini top together. It unties and he bites his lip, shifting down in his seat a bit as he watches her shed the scrap of material.

"Best view in Tahiti." He rumbles. It makes her blush and flash him that dazzling smile.

Next to go, the knot at the side of the lower half of her bikini. She pulls it so slowly part of him wants to get up and just rip it off of her. But he lets her lead the way, pulling the little bow free, then the other side. The scrap of wine red material falls away and she lifts a hand to sweep through her long mane of hair, bringing it all to rest on one side. That look in her eyes, he was a thousand percent sure he'd never seen anyone more beautiful. And she was his wife. How the hell did that happen?

He places his drink down and rises to his feet, standing over her as she kneels before him on the bed. Reaching out, he takes her hand, the one with her wedding band and engagement ring on. Lifting it and tangling their fingers together. His own wedding band clinking gently against hers.

She looks at the rings side by side and bites softly on her lip. This man that fell from the sky and ended up in her field. How far they had come. She had to write Fate a big ole thankyou card some time, for intervening in their lives in such a way. She flicks her gaze back up to his eyes and takes in his handsome face. That hair that framed it so perfectly, the days of stubble he'd taken to wearing as standard now. It suited him. A lot.

He lifts his other hand and gently takes her chin, brushing his thumb over her lower lip, then drawing her into a kiss. He pulls her naked body up against him, then takes her down on to the bed. Making love by the sunset, over the sea. Didn't get much more romantic than that.

Would be even more romantic if they didn't have a voyeur, watching from her hidden away spot on the balcony of this villa. Honestly, she was surprised Leon hadn't sensed her there, he usually did. He was so wrapped up in this new wife of his that all his other senses were failing him, apparently.

A big part of Ada told her not to watch. To turn away and let them have this private moment, she could talk to Leon whenever. But business was business, she had a task to fulfill and she wasn't leaving until she had. That doesn't mean she had to watch them have sex, but some part of her was a little fascinated. She'd always had Leon Kennedy in the palm of her hand, like a puppet on a string almost. He was a sweet, well meaning guy. Too good for this corrupt world they lived in. He was damn good at what he did – what he was bred for – but those boyish, sparkling eyes held such high hopes. Hopes she'd seen crushed in him time and again. He never got used to it, not like she had, not like others had to. That was why he was off Field Duty for the most part now. It was too much for such a caring soul.

Their world was not one relationships flourished in, and clearly he had wanted one. He'd found this pretty mountain flower and made her his. She'd never imagined Leon would get married, a bit of her didn't believe it was for real. A part of her that still felt something for him wanted to test it out, and maybe she would. Yeah, she felt for him. As much as she tried not to. His boyish charm was too sweet and got under her skin, and the way he worked a battle was enough to turn any woman on. When a man looked the way he did, and moved the way he did, it was hard not to feel something – even if it was just something between your legs.

They'd spent a weekend in a Villa on a tropical island not unlike this one. They hadn't seen much of the island, or done much talking. He had a body built for sin and that was exactly what she'd done with it. It was a lot of a shame he was off the market. As many women as possible should have experienced that dick.

He still fucked like a movie star. At least some things never changed. That lucky girl.

Ada looks away from the happy couple and out to the ocean, the sun almost completely down, a red sliver above the water now. The sky a watercolor mix of reds, purples and oranges fading in to deep navy and black. The stars already making their way out to shine above, little pinpricks in a cover of black velvet. The sounds that girl made, like she was experiencing heaven. Ada smiles wistfully, a sweet little thing like her wouldn't stand a chance in this world of theirs.

Eventually, things quiet in there. He leaves his new wife sound asleep and well sated. Getting up to get himself another drink and lock up the villa. Ever the protector. He adds a cube of ice and whiskey to a glass after pulling on some shorts, then moves over to lock the main door. It was more habit than an actual fear of anything happening all the way out here. It's as he passes to the balcony that the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, that creeping feeling. He stops in his tracks, slowly putting his glass down. Then pulls open that sliding glass door and steps outside on to the deck. It had sun loungers and a hot tub and flowers everywhere. He closes that door behind him, his fist clenching, he looks to his right, scowling. "I know you're there."

"Took you long enough." Ada purrs, stepping out of the shadow. He turns to face her fully, shouting in a whisper.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I'm on my goddamn honeymoon."

She holds her hands up like she's surrendering. "Easy, tiger." She takes another step forward and reaches out, taking his hand to look at that ring. He snatches it back from her and she laughs.

"Keep your fucking voice down," he hisses.

"So tense." Ada pouts.

"What do you want?"

"I suppose I just had to see it for myself. The uncatchable Leon Kennedy, a married man."

"Uncatchable?" he snorts incredulously, "that would require you wanting to catch me. As I recall, it was you that peaced out of every situation we ever found ourselves in."

"And you never once came after me. That'll give a girl a complex."

"Well, I can't fucking fly." He snaps. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to smash that goddamn hookshot to pieces."

She laughs, folding her arms. "Leave them frustrated and wanting more."

"Yeah, until eventually, 'they' move the fuck on." He retorts.

She tuts, "have you though? Because the way you're looking at me right now.."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Don't confuse being pissed off for interest."

"You felt me though, didn't you." She moves closer, "you put on a show for me."

"What?" he snarls.

"No man moves like that unless he wants someone to see."

"You watched us?!" he growls.

She delights in his anger, he was such an easy mark. Sometimes just playing with him was so much fun she couldn't help herself. "Quite the performance."

"You're fucking sick." He glowers at her, "I told you, a year ago, stay away from Ana."

"It's not **her** I came to talk to."

"Then what the hell do you want?"

"The same thing as always, because some things never change and as we speak, you're walking yourself gladly in to a world of shit." She pulls up close to him. He eyes her cautiously.

"Why don't you just tell me what's going on? What's Archangel?"

She raises her finger to her lips, "shhh."

"Why?"

Her smile, it did things to him always, even now. "Don't say the name," she purrs, "they're always listening." she adds in a whisper, leaning in even closer to him. So close he could smell her perfume, and the coconut used in her hair.

"Who? What the fuck is going on?" He whispers right back.

"Be careful, Leon. Be careful what you do with her." She nods in the direction of his sleeping wife, tucked away inside the villa.

"Why? I don't understand, I don't get all this cryptic fucking bullshit just tell me! Is she in danger?"

"You both are." She warns, "you've already made them angry. Don't push them."

"WHO?!" he demands, a little louder than intended. She lifts her finger to his lips this time, silencing him.

"They own you. All of us."

"Nobody owns me."

"There's so much I wish I could help you understand." She sighs. "For now, I just need you to take me at my word. Trust me, like you have in the past. Open your eyes."

"Ada, tell me what 'it' is." He grabs her arms. She looks at him. She doesn't answer, she just stares right at him.

He feels a shiver run through his body. She feels eyes on hers, and they're not his.

"Remember what they are." She whispers, then suddenly lifts her hand and grabs his crotch. "I just came for a little extra curricular activity, you still want me, I know you do." She says in a louder voice.

His hand snaps to her throat on instinct, grabbing it tightly and pushing her away.

"Don't.. I'm married. Whatever we could have had, it's done. Over. Gone."

She releases him and he releases her, she takes a handful of steps backwards and smiles at him.

"That's my boy." She winks at him, then turns and jumps the balcony fence. He expects to hear her hit the water, instead he hears the thud of her hit a boat. He watches in abject confusion as she rides away, her trademark red dress billowing in the breeze as she moves.

He grits his teeth, replaying the conversation over in his mind. She'd switched so suddenly, was she really trying to give him a warning?

"What was that noise?" Ana asks sleepily, making him almost jump out of his skin and turn to face her.

"Just.. a boat going by.." He hated lying to her with everything he was, it felt like absolute shit. But he couldn't. He couldn't tell her his ex had showed up on their honeymoon whispering warnings. He'd seen enough fear in her eyes this past year, it wasn't coming here too.

"Oh.. pretty close." She puzzles, coming out on to the deck in her robe and moving up under his arm.

"Yeah, think they were on the tail of some fish.. so to speak." He chuckles, kissing the top of her head. "Thought you were asleep?"

"Mmmm," she gazes up at him, wrapping her arms around his middle, "you made me thirsty. Might have to wear me out again."

"Now that.. I can do." He grins, leaning in to kiss her.

For the remaining week of their honeymoon he does his utmost to put Ada and her warnings out of his mind, determined not to let it ruin their time. And for the most part he's successful, though at nights he found himself lying awake, gazing at his wife and running through a million scenarios in his head that saw her in danger. He just couldn't understand who from, he wasn't on anybodies radar now. He hadn't pissed off any billionaires or henchmen or terrorists in a long time. Why would someone threaten Ana? Was Ada just messing with his head? Jealous that he'd moved on and actually found love with a woman that loved him back? He was beginning to think that was the case.

But Ada's _"They're always listening_ " line kept coming back to him. It gave him the creeps.

Returning from Honeymoon is like a big old slap in the face with reality, as they arrive back in D.C to news that Chris Redfield had been shot in the line of duty, three times, one of those times in the neck. Sometimes the humans with guns were as deadly as the monsters. He'd almost bled to death in the field and if it wasn't for Jill Valentine padding out the wound with her own shirt and getting him out of there he would have been another statistic. As it was, he was home now and convalescing. He's Leon's first phone call when he gets back to their house.

It's a less jovial than usual exchange between them. Once again, one of them had entered the field of battle and defied the odds, living to tell the tale. Like Jill and her brush with the Pandora Parasite. Like Leon and his infection with the Plaga. The countless times they'd stood up against giant monsters and somehow survived. The three of them seemed to have the luck nobody else did.

Well, very few people. He could count them on two hands.

Hot showers always cleared his thoughts, brought him back from whatever horrors his mind was wandering off to. When he wanted to forget, he stood under a stream of steaming water and imagined all of it washing down the drain at his feet. That's what he does that night, standing there letting it rain down over his face and take away thoughts of Chris, of memories, of giants and parasites and monsters, of Ada's warnings and the very idea something could happen to Ana. All of it washed down the drain.

He gets a little of the water in his mouth and for a second, chokes on it. Spitting it out, his chest started to feel tight. He lifts his hand and rubs it, drawing in a shaky breath. The pain shot through him like a scalpel blade digging for his heart. He coughs, this tearing feeling inside. He tries to call for his wife but he can't make a sound, the coughing intensifying. He couldn't breathe. He doubles over, bracing his hands against the wall of the shower and choking. Something felt like it was trying to crawl out of him.

Blood. He chokes up blood. Not just a little, a lot of it, swirling with the water at his feet. He hauls in a breath, feeling himself get light headed. Trying to call for Ana, but all he does is choke up more blood, big clots of it.

Can't breathe.

The taste of blood was overwhelming.

The Plaga parasite bursts through his throat in an explosion of blood and tearing flesh, the things screech the last thing he hears.

He sits bolt upright in bed, torn from the nightmare by reality, clutching his chest and coughing.

"Leon?!" Ana sits up too, reaching over and turning on the light. She looks back to him in horror as he coughs and chokes at her side, there was blood on the sheets and in his palm. "Jesus!" she exclaims. He couldn't get his breath and she dashes out of bed, grabbing the phone and dialling 911. Tears in her eyes as she rushes back to her struggling husband, getting back onto the bed on her knees in front of him.

"Slowly baby.. calm down.." she coaches as he retches and fights for air. "Look at me!" she grabs his chin, "focus. Calm down. Breathe." She says it firmly. He looks at her, really looking. Eyes fixing on hers. She breathes with him, trying to get him to at least stop panicking. Though the fact he'd coughed up blood was very, frighteningly real.

After what felt like the longest wait in history, the ambulance arrives. They decide blood tests and a scan of his chest were necessary and so for the first time in both their lives, they ride in an ambulance to D.C's best hospital. By the time they're there they have him breathing with just a wheeze, an oxygen mask did wonders for helping him get air in, and her soothing hand had helped his panic pass. He felt exhausted and his chest felt like it was on fire. The Doctors suspected some kind of chest infection, though he had a good idea he knew better what it was.

How did you explain to a regular doctor you once had a parasite egg removed from your chest and it had left scarring and who knows what damage?

It's an anxious wait for Ana as he's taken away for the scan, she sits chewing her thumb nail in a private waiting room.

"Mrs Kennedy?"

She doesn't answer at first, they were so newly married she wasn't used to being called that just yet. They repeat and she suddenly realizes they're talking to her. "Yes! That's me.. sorry." She stands up, expecting to be confronted by a Doctor telling her how he was doing. Instead, she's confronted by two men in suits. She frowns.

"We're here to inform you we're transferring your husband to our private facility."

"Wait, what?" She frowns, looking between them both. "Who are you?"

One of them produces an ID. It had the Division of Security Operations logo on it. She blinks.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." She shakes her head.

"Mr Kennedy's condition is considered... classified."

"His _condition_?"

"Yes, you really should have contacted us instead of 911 in the case of medical problems."

She felt like she was being hit with a truck repeatedly, "why on earth would I think to call his work when he's choking up _blood_?"

"We're going to need you to come with us." They ignore her questions and for a moment she's completely frozen. For some reason, she didn't trust them.

"No, this is crap. Where is he?"

"We're in the process of transferring him."

"Then I want to see him. Now." She demands. One of them takes her elbow and she shrugs him off and wraps her arms around herself. Reluctantly following them to the side exit of the building where sure enough, Leon is being walked to a waiting car. She breaks away from the two men and runs over to him.

"What's going on, are you okay?" She asks.

He looks at her with the weariest eyes she'd ever seen.

"We're moving him to our own facility. This hospital is not equipped to deal with the after effects of a parasite removal." The person in a suit with him explains.

Its like being slapped in the face. He'd never mentioned anything.

"When? What? I don't understand." She hugs herself tightly.

"In Spain," he rasps, sitting down in the back seat of the car. "it was a long time ago. I don't know why.. its flaring up now."

She swipes her hand through her hair. Scared. "You're going to be okay though, right?"

He nods, giving her a little smile. He beckons her in to the car with him. She glances back at the two men in suits that still gave her the creeps, and notices another holding the chest X rays and even the blood samples the hospital had taken.

They'd confiscated everything.

Sitting in the back of that car with her sickly husband, she realizes maybe for the first time, just how 'classified' his world really was.

And it was terrifying.


	15. The Devil You Know

**Its the Beast, its my Heart, its so Brave**

 **\- Brand New**

* * *

It felt like walking through a dream, everything happening around her as they arrived at the intimidating towering fortress that was the Division of Security Operations. It was strange to her that they'd have medical facilities in what looked like an office building, but she was discovering the deeper in to his world she got, that it was like falling down the rabbit hole. She was Alice but the place she landed was anything but Wonderland. It was scary, full of nameless people in suits and lab coats that treated her like she wasn't there as they moved her breathless, struggling husband from one place to another.

On the short journey between the hospital and the DSO building, he'd gone quiet. No more attempting to talk, just closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the seats headrest. They'd given him another oxygen mask and when they reached the parking lot they put him on to a gurney. She felt like someone had reached in to her own chest and grabbed hold of her heart, and was squeezing as hard as they could. She'd seen him battle a massive fever and even then he'd seemed so full of fight. Now he was listless, barely there, struggling to catch a single decent lungful of air.

Nobody talks to her. Nobody tells her what's happening or what they're going to do, she's just ushered along as they load him in to an elevator and they're taken to the 9th floor. Once there, a woman in a suit takes her gently by the arm, stopping her from proceeding and offering her what should have been a comforting smile but instead felt sinister.

"They'll take good care of him, come with me." She promises.

"But I.." Ana had gone to protest, wanting to go with him. She'd nursed him through sickness before and she hadn't left his side. Now they were forcing her.

"It's for the best, would you like some tea?" The blonde asks in her sickly sweet and insincere voice. Ana looks from the hallway they'd taken Leon down and back to this woman clinging to her arm. She was supposed to be trusting these people?

Leon trusted them. He'd worked with them for years. So why did it all feel so... wrong?

Maybe it was just her own distress, making everything feel strange and unreal. She loved him so much, the past two weeks with their wedding and honeymoon had been the most wonderful of her life. But they'd gotten home and it seemed like everything had fallen apart in an instant. After a few moments staring at this older woman and her blonde, way too manicured hair, she nods.

"Okay." She reluctantly agrees.

She's led deeper in to this rabbit warren of an office building, noticing that offices soon gave way to full on lab facilities. It was almost 4am and yet there were people in white coats working like it was the middle of the day. She supposed the security of the country didn't allow for down time, this had to be normal in their world, it was just so foreign to her.

She's shown to a room with a blue couch and paintings on the walls, with a coffee table and a desk and a large rug on the floor. It had to be someone's office, it wasn't Leon's, she knew his and had visited it a handful of times.

She's brought a mug of tea and told they'd have an update on his condition soon. Then she's left entirely alone with nothing but a TV showing some infomercial for some new product by Blue Umbrella. For a while she just sits there, holding the tea and staring at the logo that flashes across the screen. Weren't Umbrella the enemy? Mostly though, she was listening. Taking in the sounds of the building, the people out in the hallways going about their business. She drums her nails against the porcelain of the cup and puffs out her cheeks, her leg jiggling a little with anxiety.

Around an hour later the door swings open and a man in a doctors white coat enters the room, smiling at her. Everybody was smiling at her like her husband hadn't just been choking on his own blood, it was creeping her out and she wasn't sure why.

"Mrs Kennedy?"

"Yes," she answers cautiously as he comes over to her.

"Leon's going to be just fine." He tells her, standing in front of her with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.

She lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "I don't understand what's happening." She admits, her voice cracking a little. The older man looks a little awkward for a moment, then his features soften and he seems to decide she deserved to have some questions answered, she was Leon's wife after all. He takes a seat at her side.

"I'm not sure how much he's told you about his experience in Spain."

"Just that he had to rescue the Presidents daughter." She shrugs. He'd told her it had been the fight of his life, but that was it. The few flashbacks he'd described to her had involved giant beasts that wanted to tear him apart, not parasites.

"Right. Well, while he was there he was captured by a cult calling themselves Los Illuminados. The short version is they wanted to take over the world using a Parasite, the Plaga. A kind of mind control creature. It takes over the hosts nervous system."

She makes a face, clutching that now cold mug a little tighter.

"They implanted the egg of a Plaga parasite inside Leon's chest. It grew there, he was able to suppress it from hatching and eventually, using some pretty crude technology by today's standards, he was able to have it removed."

"At a hospital?"

"No, the facility in which the cult were hatching their plan, no pun intended." The Doctor smiles at her. She didn't find it particularly funny. "It was a laser of sorts, it broke down and disintegrated the egg. But the parasite itself left damage – scarring. Mostly in Leon's lungs. The rather inefficient lasers didn't just disrupt the parasites tissues either, but his too. He has permanent damage and from time to time, given the right conditions, he'll experience episodes like tonight. Shortness of breath, the coughing up blood. It can be quite terrifying for him and obviously for those around him. But getting him here quickly saved his life."

She swallows down a lump in her throat, subconsciously clutching her own neck with her hand. "Well, what conditions?" She asks, wanting to understand what she could do to help this not happen again.

The Doctor shrugs. "You just returned from a long flight, yes?"

Her heart sinks. "Tahiti, we were on our honeymoon."

"Well, changes in air pressure. Temperatures. Even pollutants could set it off. There's really no exact science to it I'm afraid, just something that irritates the damaged cells in his lungs."

She just gazes at the kindly doctor, biting her lip and doing her best not to burst in to tears.

Some part of her wanted to scream at these people. What had they done to him? Sending him out on these crazy missions. His body was scarred and he hurt all the time, and now she was finding out he even wore scars on the inside? But then memories of Chicago spring in to her mind, the horror everybody had faced that day and the men and women that had stood up to try and help. A heavy guilt settles on her shoulders for even thinking that. Leon wore the scars because he was brave enough to do it. Because he wanted to save the damn world. She'd married a hero, and heroes sacrificed.

"Can I see him?" she asks after a little while.

"He's resting for the moment, it took a lot out of him. You should get some rest too, go home."

She shakes her head, "no. No I'm staying here. I'll just wait." She sits back as though demonstrating physically that she was going nowhere. He simply nods, getting back to his feet.

"I'll have someone come for you when he's awake. If you need anything, Jessica at reception is just down the hall." He offers her that smile again and she returns a smaller one. Then she's on her own.

On her own with her thoughts. It's not a great time, really.

As dawn drew closer she drifted off on that couch, getting a few minutes of restless sleep before the clunk of the door brings her around with a jolt. She sits up, seeing another man in a suit standing in front of her. This one had greying hair and much older features and she recognized him but in her exhausted state she couldn't pinpoint him exactly.

"Ana," he says with a gentle smile.

"Yes?"

"I was told you were here, my dear. Is there anything we can get you?"

She shakes her head. "Can I see Leon yet?"

"Not yet." He lifts his hand and removes his glasses, the other producing a small cloth to lightly rub the lenses. He moves to her side and takes a seat. "I'm James Hoult. I believe we've met before."

"Right! Yes.. sorry.. it's been a long night." She says with a weary laugh. He gives her a nod.

"It has indeed." He finishes polishing the lens and fits his glasses back on his face. "Ana, we have a dilemma."

She blinks. "We do?"

"Yes. You see, what you've been told tonight. What you've witnessed. It's not something that can leave this building. National security you see."

"Oh.."

"You've put us in a rather unusual position."

"I have?"

"There are things – incidents – that the agents that work for us are exposed to that have to be kept under lock and key. Information that can't get out to the general public." The way he was looking at her made her feel like a child in school being told off by the principal. "Leon Kennedy has been one of our most powerful assets in our ongoing war against Bio Terrorism and those that would seek to bring down everything we and organizations like us have built here. He is also bound – by loyalty and by contract – to say nothing."

Her mind wanders back to his blurred out photo in that newspaper. She gives a little nod.

"Tonight instead of reaching out to us, you called 911. Paramedics and hospital staff aren't stupid, they will have known what they were dealing with wasn't a simple chest infection or typical virus just by glancing at those scan results. Biological weapons are obviously a hot topic in the media especially since Chicago. They will be asking questions – they might even track you down. Before you know it you have reporters outside your gate."

She simply stares at him.

"You cannot talk to them, Mrs Kennedy. Do you understand?"

"But they already know these things are out there, you can't hide the things that happen in plain sight." She gestures to the switched off TV in the room.

"The media knows what we want them to know." James says flatly. "They report what we tell them to report. Even the Lois Lane's of the world, thinking they're on to a big scoop." He waves his hands like it was a massive joke, "they're fed what we allow them to be fed. Enough to keep the public informed, but not panicked. Nothing more, nothing less."

She folds her arms around herself, nodding. "Well I wasn't planning on spilling intimate details about my husband anyway."

"Good!" James smiles, "good, then we're on the same page." He claps his hands on his knees in a strange, celebratory manner. "I am however going to need you to sign a confidentiality agreement to that effect."

After a pause, a quiet, "oh," escapes her. "Well. I can do that." She agrees eventually.

"Good. Wonderful. Well if you'd like to come with me we can get that taken care of and then you can see Leon." James gets to his feet. She does the same and as she stands, he turns to look her up and down. She was dressed in leggings, sneakers and a tank top and cardigan. She'd thrown it on slightly before the ambulance arrived. Her hair was in a mess around her shoulders. She looked out of place in this fancy building.

"We've never had one of our top agents marry a civilian before.." James sounded amused. "Quite the predicament."

Her frown was impossible to hide. The comment seemed insane to her, nobody here married outside of the little circle? Was it a secret club and she was invading their territory? She suddenly felt even more out of place than before and forces through a tiny laugh of her own. "Well, shit happens I guess." She blurts out.

James chuckles. "Indeed it does."

With that he turns for the door and after hanging back for a moment, Ana forces herself to follow him. The building was coming alive as morning workers began to arrive, and the looks she caught as she followed James down the hall made her uncomfortable. She's taken to Jessica at the reception desk and handed a stack of paper. The confidentiality agreement was on about ten pages and in the short time she has, she tries to skim through as much as she can. But is rushed to put her signature down and does so, signing on the dotted line and moving the paper and pen back to the blonde with the manicured hair.

"Excellent." James pats the top of her arm. These were the good guys, she reminds herself. The people that protected the country, that sent men and women in to battle to protect them all.

So why did she feel so intimidated?

James has another nameless suited man take her to the medical wing of their operation. The relief when she sees Leon is instant and everything she'd just had to deal with fell by the wayside as she hurries over to him. He had color back in his cheeks and was awake, those eyes had their gleam back and they soften as soon as she comes in to the room.

"Hey, you." She beams, arriving beside him and taking his hand. He reaches for her, drawing her in to a kiss.

"You stayed."

"Of course I did. How are you feeling?" She asks, running her free hand through his hair and tidying it up a bit for him.

"Better now I can breathe," he says dryly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she frowns.

"That I didn't tell you. It hasn't flared up in so long."

"It's okay.." she waves him off, "we've had a lot going on. You couldn't know that was going to happen when it did. At least I know who to call now, I've been thoroughly lectured." She adds with a slight laugh.

He pulls a face. "They been giving you a hard time?"

"A bit," she grimaces. "Made me sign a confidentiality agreement that I wouldn't talk to the media."

Leon frowns. "What?"

"Not like I was planning on running out and doing that anyway, but yeah." She shrugs.

"You signed something?"

"Yeah."

"On who's order?"

"James Hoult.. he's your Boss, right?" She puzzles.

He nods. "Yeah.. he should have run that by me first."

"Well, I'm a big girl. I can sign an agreement."

"I know. Just don't like the idea of them making you sign things." He sighs.

"They're the good guys, right?" she gives him a little shrug and he turns his head, gazing out of the glass window in the wall to the facility still bustling all around them, then looking back to her.

"Yeah." He says nothing else. But even the good guys could be pretty ruthless and suddenly Ada's words are ringing in his head. He wanted to know what they'd really made her sign.

He's released later that day and they're driven home by a company driver. The bed was a mess, his blood ruining sheets which they strip away and throw in the trash. The very next day they return to Montana, back to the peace and sanctuary of the Ranch for two weeks, where a little of the Honeymoon mood makes its return. Thoughts of parasites and confidentiality agreements and everything that went with his tense job temporarily forgotten in favor of laughter and making themselves some new memories. They also pay a visit to Chris at his place out in Nevada, checking in on him and seeing how he was doing after his near fatal gunshot wounds.

Like Jill after her heart surgery, he was healing quickly. A bandage around his neck that he said was driving him crazy, but In good spirits. Good enough that he was already lifting weights again despite further wounds to his shoulder and thigh. Nothing put Chris Redfield down for very long.

The return to the city two weeks later is a reluctant one. Leon returns to work and throws himself back in to training potential new recruits. Since Chicago, more and more were looking to transfer from the regular army in to the anti terrorist sector, it was getting a lot of interest, but not everybody was cut out for it. Both the DSO and BSAA experienced an influx of applicants and Leon could normally spot the candidates that had the right potential after a single briefing, very few made it through two weeks of intense drills and scenario training, even fewer made it through the full on battle simulations. Of every twenty candidates he saw, one would make it. The record so far was two – the two girls he'd frozen in front of a little over a year ago. They were now full fledged Field Agents under the DSO with two major assignments under their belts and a ton of smaller tasks handled with ease. Their first huge test had been Chicago, he hadn't worked with them that day, he'd stayed with Jill and the Redfields and marched in to the heart of the city to try and extract some very important people. But he'd heard they'd rescued a full classroom of students from a burning building swarmed by BOW's. His instincts about them had been right.

Since Chicago, the DSO and the BSAA had forged an even stronger working relationship and Leon aided them with recruits also. He'd become the go-to in the business, if you wanted to get in to either division, you were trained and selected by Leon Kennedy. He was the end of the road and your final test.

He took pride in it, it was good to feel useful. Like he was still doing his part. But regularly he was told nobody would ever be able to replace him. It was an ego stroke, but it also felt a little strange. He was just one man good at thinking on his feet and hitting a target.

He shrugs off his utility vest and drops it down on to the bench of the locker room, unwrapping the supports from around his wrists and peeling off the fingerless leather gloves. His first simulation run through since his choking incident, and his lungs felt alright. His breathing had held up. Impressive especially considering he'd had to give three of the potential recruits an absolute earful for being brainless idiots. They hadn't listened and had gotten their entire squad killed, that kind of mistake got you Leon Kennedy an inch from your nose and yelling. You really didn't want that.

He chucks the gloves into his locker and stuffs the other tactical pieces inside, then heads off for a shower. They'd ramped up the heat in the simulation today, piling on the pressure. He was a sweaty mess.

When he finally returns to his office, showered and back in his jeans and red button down shirt and leather jacket, he takes care of the days reports. A boring task that required coffee. Once he's done, he hesitates in front of the computer, then with a glance toward his closed door, types in his wife's name. Not in to Google, but in to the DSO's database. He wanted to see what they'd made her sign.

What he finds is under a password and that makes him scowl, entering in his high level clearance codes and turning up an 'Access Denied'. "What the fuck are you hiding?" he grumbles, gritting his teeth. Another file name catches his eye. Documents on the Alaska Assignment. He clicks on it, finding his own report among others, an entry from Chris Redfield, one from Jill, one from Rebecca. And then a long list of names.

His frown deepens.

"She was the only one?" he murmurs. That couldn't be right. According to the files, of all of the infected that had survived that day, the only one to live through the heart surgery to remove the parasite had been Jill. Every other infected person had died during or slightly after. His jaw tightens and he sits back in his seat, staring at this information and rocking his chair side to side idly. How? How did he, Chris and Jill keep facing insurmountable odds and winning? Things nobody else survived, or only survived with the help of one of the three of them? For twenty years now, the same story.

He tilts his head to one side, eyes narrowing.

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael.

He laughs out loud to nobody but himself. That was ridiculous. There were Seven Archangels anyway. Also, he was anything but an Angel and Angels weren't real. He sits forward, another name jumping in to his brain. He wanted to check something out, but the second he reaches for the computer his office phone rings. He was needed urgently elsewhere. Of course he was.

Sighing, he switches off his computer monitor and heads out.

* * *

The Pandora Parasite turned up in Europe, to the absolute shock of nobody at all. Someone had decided attempting to cross it with the Plaga would be a stellar idea. It hadn't worked, this town wasn't big enough for two parasites apparently. But it had unleashed a second clusterfuck in Spain that the BSAA had had to go in and clean up. With a small town cleared, Leon had helped strategize and co-ordinate an assault on the suspected base of operations of this new, rising terrorist organization. They were believed to be responsible for the attack on Chicago, the operation had to go without a hitch. They'd flown Leon out there with the BSAA and the DSO's best to take this shit down.

Returning to Spain had been a strange and intense experience for him, so many memories. None of them good. He'd felt like he was returning to exorcise a demon.

Jill led the team, and Leon saw them through. Working as their eye in the sky and watching their every move. It had been the flawless raid they needed, the rarest of all outcomes. Not a single one of their squad lost, only a handful of minor injuries, and the bad guys either taken out or apprehended. A giant win for the DSO and BSAA's first official joint foreign venture. A personal accomplishment for Leon too, he'd scouted and planned the shit out of it, giving Jill the clearest instructions. She'd pulled it off spectacularly.

There were some very drunk, celebratory agents in the hotel that night before returning home.

And they returned heroes. Media waiting for them at the airfield in Washington. Leon usually avoided that shit like the plague and planned on doing so this time, but as they leave the plane they're told it's time for him to step out of the shadows and step up as a figurehead for the DSO. It's daunting. But he and Jill address the media, informing them of the successful apprehension of the head of a new Terrorist unit, believed to be responsible for the attack on Chicago. He'd never been the recipient of applause before. But there it was.

Mostly, he wanted to get home to his wife.

There was no better feeling, he discovers. She runs out of the house as soon as he's in the drive and jumps in to his arms. He catches her and holds on to her, her legs wrapping around his waist. He carries her back in to the house and kicks the front door shut behind them. They make it as far as the couch. Clothes discarded, wrapped up in love and each other.

In the peaceful afterglow she lies over him, that familiar, pleasant weight he enjoyed.

"So proud of you," she murmurs, brushing her fingers back and forth across the hard muscle and fuzz of his chest.

He smiles, it felt really good to hear that from her. With anybody else it just seemed kind of like ass kissing, but with her, he really felt it. He liked making her proud.

Eventually they get up and he sets about unpacking and showering off the flight and their extra curricular activities, while she gets dinner ready. He hadn't felt quite so content in a while, the aftermath of their wonderful honeymoon had been hellish, but now it seemed like things were getting back on track. Shirtless and in sweats he sets about trimming down the stubble that was threatening to get a bit unruly. While he works, his mind wanders to what he'd been doing slightly before he'd gotten the urgent call about Spain.

Archangel.

"Leon?" Her voice brings him back from that thought almost immediately and he blinks, looking in to the bathroom mirror to see her move up behind him. She slips her hand around his bare stomach and rests her cheek against his back.

"Hey sweetheart." He murmurs, resting his hand over hers. "Everything okay?"

She shifts a little, then brings her other hand around in front of him. In the same way he'd presented her with her engagement ring, she presents him with two.. plastic sticks.

He frowns.

"Congratulations, Dad." She gently kisses his shoulder and his eyes go wide, taking the sticks and looking at them closely. Both said the same single, life changing word.

"You're pregnant?!" he laughs. They hadn't been trying, but they'd talked about it. As scary as the world was, they wanted it.

"Uh huh." her smile could outmatch the sun.

He turns and wraps her up in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

If he could freeze time right here, the world would forever be perfect.

But you can't, can you.


	16. Before the Storm

**Authors Note:** The calm before..

* * *

 **Just for a minute the silver forked sky**  
 **Lit you up like a star that I will follow**  
 **Now its found us, like I have found you**  
 **I don't want to run, just overwhelm me**

 **I want to see you as you are now**  
 **Every single day that I am living**  
 **Painted in flames and peeling thunder**  
 **Be the lightning in me**  
 **That strikes relentless**

 **\- Snow Patrol, "The Lightning Strike"**

* * *

He'd never heard anything like it, but he's sure it's the most intense and beautiful sound he's ever heard in his life. The gentle 'woosh woosh' fills the small and dimly lit room, and Leon's hand tightens around Ana's as both of them gaze at the monitor to her right.

"Thats a good, strong heartbeat," the sweet Doctor smiles over to them, brushing her ultrasound wand over Ana's belly. It was a little uncomfortable but worth every second of the discomfort. It wasn't her first, but the prior scan had mostly shown them a small bean shape on the screen, confirming a heartbeat and that she was indeed pregnant. Now, at her three month milestone, the outline of their fully formed baby springs up on the little monitor and their hands clasp together like they're holding on for dear life.

He or she was strong and growing well, no way to tell just yet what they were having but that didn't even feel all that important to either of them. They were just happy, this was happening. Somehow, amidst the ruins that had been Leon Kennedy's life, he'd managed to build a new one with this amazing woman to his side. She'd changed everything. He'd been so close to the edge, so close to giving up. The battle had seemed endless and impossible to win, at every turn more wars and monsters springing up that only he and a select few on the planet knew how to fight. It seemed futile, he'd been so tired.

Then a bolt of lightning hit a one in a million shot and gave him hope. It seemed like fate had intervened again on their behalf, giving them a second gift. They hadn't been trying, but they'd talked about it a lot. A family was something both of them wanted despite all of the evils in the world. You had to keep going, had to build a future or it really wasn't worth the fight. Nature gave them another nudge, overrode her birth control and here they were, parents to be.

For Leon, it changed everything. He both wanted to save the world immediately, and move away from anything that might threaten him or his family. He wanted to take his wife and child as far from it all as he could. In the weeks since she'd told him, he'd doubled down on his efforts at work to find people that could take over his mantle when he left. He was maybe extra hard on the rookies, but it was for a fucking good reason. He needed to know he was leaving the fight in good hands. Because he'd made up his mind, before this baby arrived, his battle would come to an end. He hadn't told the powers that be yet, nobody knew Ana was pregnant outside of him and her doctor. But they would soon and a conversation with James was on the cards. He wanted to be out by her 6th month. The plan was to move to Colorado.

He had a place there that he hadn't seen in months, on the outskirts of Castle Rock, headed in to the mountains. It was big enough to comfortably raise a family, near enough to good schools, and tucked away enough to provide protection from – well – the things he'd spent his life warring against. Ana was going to sell the Ranch and there was enough land with his place in Colorado, that they could build a barn and three stables for her horses. She didn't want to be without Dutchman, Azure and Domino.

They had it all planned out, and now with a clean bill of health for both Ana and the baby, it was time to start putting it in to action.

As that heartbeat wooshes away, he leans over and kisses the side of her temple. Ana turns a bright smile to him, lifting her free hand to gently touch his cheek and draw him in to a proper kiss. For her part, she couldn't be happier. The pregnancy so far had been easy, she felt really good. No morning sickness and nothing but an almost constant craving for cupcakes. Leon said it was because he was so sweet, the idiot. If you thought he cracked a lot of jokes as a single guy, you should hear him as a Father to be.

The Doctor prints out a couple of shots of the ultrasound, handing them over.

"So, its safe to start telling people?" Ana asks as she sits up, Leon helping her clean the cold gel off of her already slightly rounding belly. She wouldn't be able to hide it for much longer anyway, she'd already taken to wearing looser tops with everything.

"Absolutely, everything looks fine," The doctor nods, filling out some parts of a chart for her notes. "All your lab results came back perfect. Exceptional actually," she muses, "and you've had no morning sickness or tiredness or anything?"

Ana shrugs, looking to Leon who couldn't recall any. "Not really, bit of nausea but thats it."

"She's had more energy than I have." Leon chuckles, tossing a gunky paper towel in the trash while Ana adjusts her top, covering herself back up.

"Well, you're one of the very rare lucky few," Her Doctor smiles at her, shuffling papers. "Must be good genes." She adds.

Leon snorts. "Then are we sure its mine?"

Ana gasps and whacks his shoulder playfully. "You ass."

"I'm kidding!" He reassures, rubbing her knee.

The Doctor laughs with them and hands her a prescription for some vitamins and supplements she should be taking regardless, she takes it and looks it over.

"We'll see you again in a couple of months, in the meantime if you need anything, give us a call."

"Oh, about that," Ana says as she gets to her feet, "we're actually planning on moving out of state before the baby comes. Are you able to give us a referral?"

"Of course," The Doctor smiles, "going anywhere nice?"

"Colorado." Leon answers as Ana gets her things together. It was raining outside, November bringing its cloudier days to Washington. Christmas beginning to spring up all around them, he could swear that got earlier every year.

"Lovely, I'll see who I can find for you out there." The Doctor scribbles something else down on her notes and then stands to shake their hands.

Its the most normal Leon had ever felt in his life. And that was a really, really good thing.

They leave the Doctors offices hand in hand and head for his car, Ana pulls her hood over her head as they step out into the rain and jog across the street to the parking lot. "Gross!" she wails, laughing as they get in. She loved this car almost as much as he did, but as he starts it up she turns a smile to him. "You realize we're going to have to get something we can fit a baby seat in to?"

"Are you kidding? This kids gonna leave the womb on a bike." He smirks.

"You're such an idiot," she chuckles.

"That's your problem, you married me." he shrugs, looking over his shoulder as he backs them out of the spot.

"Oh God, if its a boy my life's going to be one long worry that one or both of you is going to do something insane at any given moment, isn't it."

"How do you think I feel? If its a girl I'm gonna have a shotgun by the door." He says thoughtfully. The teenage daughter of Leon Kennedy was not dating – ever. Not until she was 40. He could picture himself threatening any grubby teenage boys that showed up looking to take her out. Letting them know exactly how good he was with a gun and how many things had met their demise at his hand.

"As if you wont have one there anyway, retired or not." She pokes his thigh and he grins.

"You're probably right."

Of course she was.

* * *

"I can't believe you're going to be a father," Claire Redfield smiles gently at him, tucked up on the couch beside him, her legs curled under her and her elbow rested along the back of the seat. She leaned the side of her head against her knuckle and held a glass of wine in her other hand, her deep red hair fell in a familiar waterfall around her shoulders. Leon hadn't seen Claire since Chicago, she'd been working hard with survivors and rescue workers still sifting through the ruined city ever since. Ever the humanitarian, she could handle herself in a warzone but her energies were always better suited and directed toward helping people. Comforting them when they needed someone the most. For all the warriors in this room, Claire Redfield was the healer and conscience among them.

He always felt a strange sense of ease and calm around her. Now was no different, he'd been slightly anxious about gathering their friends together on the pretense of throwing a pre Christmas party, only to tell them all around the dinner table that he and Ana were soon to be parents.

There had been a lot of hand shaking, a lot of hugging. Sherry cried and Chris Redfield declared the world was officially coming to an end. Now with dinner done, Jill and Ingrid and Ana were gossiping about who knows what in the kitchen. Chris, Jake and Sherry were playing pool and Leon had slumped on to the couch with a bottle of beer and a smile on his face. Claire had joined him soon after and it was nice to see her without the threat of death hanging over both of their heads.

"Yep, who knew I had it in me?" He chuckles, taking a swig from the bottle.

"I think you'll be a great Dad," Claire nods, "you're kind and caring and loyal. You'll teach them all the right things."

He glances sideways at her, a little smirk on his lips. "You got that from seeing me blow the heads off of monsters, huh?"

"I'm serious!" she protests with a little laugh, "you're a good man, Leon. One of the best I know."

"Now I'm gonna have to get you a Christmas gift," he quips, taking another drink.

"You're impossible," she rolls her eyes, "take the damn compliment."

"I'm taking it!" he holds his hands up.

"Good. You deserve this, I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," he smiles over to her, beginning to peel off the label from his beer bottle. After a short silence in which Chris declares Jake is clearly cheating at pool, he looks back to her. "Been a long road, huh?"

"Oh, it sure has," Claire agrees. Giving him a weary roll of her eyes. "Sometimes it seems like it never ends."

"Because it doesn't. No matter how much we do, how hard we work.." he shakes his head.

"Never going to stop being evil people in the world." She says sadly. "Must be kinda scary, huh?" she adds after a little while, "bringing a child in to this."

He draws a deep breath and his eyebrows jump, nodding. "It is, but at the same time we can't stop living. If people give up then they've won. We might as well not bother with the fight at all."

"True." Claire agrees. "I've thought about it myself, I'd love to be a Mom some day. But something keeps me from really trying - putting myself out there."

"Do it, if that's what you want."

"I don't know." She sighs.

"I was really.. really close to fucking giving up, Claire." He looks to her, holding his fingers a fraction apart, "this close."

"You were?"

"Almost blew my head off actually." He admits. Claire's eyes narrow.

"Jesus, Leon."

He shrugs. "Then lightning hit the chopper I was on and I landed in her goddamn field.." he tilts the neck of his beer bottle toward a laughing Ana in the kitchen. She, Ingrid and Jill were probably talking about him. "Felt a bit like life threw me a lifeline. Like something out there decided.. hey, this guys saved a fuck ton of people. Maybe we should save him. And sent me to her."

Claire smiles softly, "sounds like it."

Leon shakes his head, remembering. "I was just over it. Over the fight, it seemed futile. Like there was nothing to really be fighting for. Even that drive I had to just help other people was starting to fade." He chews on his lip for a moment, it had been a dark, bleak time in his life. "Then this girl that didn't know me at all went through hell to save my damn life. She fought for me. It gave me something back. Something I'd lost. And every day since she's reminded me that we still have to live our lives as well as fight for them." He looks back to Claire. "We got one shot here. And we've been through enough, we got the scars and the memories and the traumas to remind us. We deserve to live in the world we fought for."

Claire gazes at him, a smile drifting across her face. "You're a wise man, Leon Kennedy."

"I am now." He nods, "it's all her."

Claire turns her head and looks over to Ana. Jill was leaning down and talking to the bump in her tummy.

"Yeah, that kids going to have the best Dad." she murmurs.

"I'm gonna try," he promises. "And when you meet that guy you wanna start a family with, you better introduce me first. I'll kick his ass if I get a bad vibe."

Claire reaches out and shoves him gently, but then agrees. "I'll remember that. Can't get a better vetting than a Leon vetting."

"Damn straight."

"I no longer trust Jake Muller." Chris declares as he stalks over to them.

Leon chuckles. "He beat you huh?"

"No. He cheated."

"How do you cheat at pool, exactly?" Claire puzzles.

"Weighted balls." Chris takes a swig from his drink. Leon and Claire share a look, then burst in to a fit of laughter. "You're all assholes." Chris grumbles, flopping in to an armchair. The scar on his neck was impressive, another one to add to the extensive collection of them shared in this room right now.

As Chris and Claire strike up conversation, Leon finds himself gazing around at their oddball selection of friends. A gathering of warriors and people with the bravest, kindest hearts he knew. People that selflessly put themselves on the line to save others, while trying their hardest to live their own lives. It was a struggle for all of them, but he quietly hoped that one day each person in this house would find their happiness. They all deserved it.

As he thinks it, Jake and Sherry share a kiss by the pool table.

His eyes widen a little. Sherry was no little girl anymore, and despite his lineage, Jake had proven himself to be nothing but a trustworthy, good kid. And a hell of a fighter. Not like his fallen father, Albert Wesker.

Fallen. Like Samael.

Leon's eyes narrow, doing a tally in his head of the people in this room right now. Six. Six brave, resilient souls that had walked through various hells and brought down the bad guys, time and time again. But Six wasn't Seven.

"You okay?" Chris cuts in to his thoughts and Leon blinks, nodding.

"Yeah, yeah I'm cool. Just.." he points to Sherry and Jake. Chris glances at the canoodling kids and looks back to him, chuckling.

"At ease, Dad. She's old enough to make her own mistakes." Chris muses.

"Hate to break it to ya boys, but she's been making that mistake for a while now.." Claire winks at them.

"With him?" Leon asks.

"Ohhh yeah."

Leon sighs. "I need another drink. She was 10 five fucking minutes ago." He huffs, getting to his feet as the Redfields laugh at him.

If he had a daughter, he was in trouble.

That thought in mind he wanders in to the kitchen to get rid of his beer bottle and track down some whiskey, stopping by his wife on the way to kiss her cheek, his hand slips over her slightly rounded tummy for a moment. "If we have a girl, I'm buying a chainsaw." He mumbles next to her ear and makes her laugh.

"If we have a girl we should probably just move to the moon," she suggests.

"That's a good idea!" he says with a lift of his eyebrows.

"Oh damn, dating the daughter of Leon Kennedy. Pity the poor guy that tries," Jill smirks at them over the rim of her wine glass. Leon pulls a face.

"Not happening." He says firmly, "I will end them."

"Women, brother. They don't understand." Chris claps him on the shoulder and joins him in refilling the whiskey glass.

"Don't understand what?" Ingrid asks. "That its okay for you all to play the field but not us?"

Jill puts her glass down and folds her arms. "Yeah, boys. What IS that all about?"

Leon looks between them and shakes his head. "I am not having this conversation."

"Play the field all you want!" Chris looks to Jill, who lifts her eyebrows. "But don't be my daughter."

"So protective," Jill pouts.

"Like you wouldn't be protective if some black widow like Ada Wong started hitting on your little boy?" Chris gestures to Jill. Leon quietly chokes on his drink and Ana gives him a sideways glance.

"I would let him make his own mistakes." Jill defends.

"Bullshit." Chris challenges.

"Don't start with me, Redfield."

"I'm just saying! Its natural to be protective of your kid. Especially when girls get such a raw fuckin' deal from guys. We know what they're after, especially when they're full of hormones." Chris shrugs.

"Now that I can agree with," Ingrid nods.

"Guess ya'll will just have to have kids and find out some day!" Claire breezes into the room and gestures between Jill and Chris. There's a couple of red faces instantly in the room and laughter from the others. One day those two would stop bickering and actually get their shit together. Hopefully Leon would see it in his lifetime.

He notices as the conversation turns to other things, that Ana looked tired. She hid a yawn behind a glass of juice and idly stroked her tummy. He moves up behind her, looping an arm around her waist.

"Tired, sweetheart?" he asks as the others chatter. She had her hair up and his lightly tickles her cheek. She loved that feeling. He'd let it get pretty long just lately, longer than usual and it had darkened with winter drawing in and less sun in the sky.

"A little. I'm okay." She quietly responds.

"I'll kick em out soon." He promises, kissing the side of her head.

He holds true to his word and it was getting late anyway, thanking their friends for coming, there's a barrage of further congratulations and promises to see them soon. Eventually, the house is peaceful and as she begins to tidy things away, he stops her. Telling her they could take care of it tomorrow and taking her hand to lead her to bed.

He slept soundly that night, a true rarity for him. Usually his dreams were haunted at least once a night by the grim memories he held stashed in his brain. They never let him rest for too long without reminding him of the things he'd seen and the battles he'd fought. But on this night, he sleeps through until dawn without waking up a single time. Instead he's roused by his morning alarm and he reaches over to switch it off with a bit of a grumble.

To his side, Ana stirs and cuddles herself up to him.

"Forgot to turn the damn thing off," he mumbles to her.

"Its okay," she whispers in return, stroking her hand over his stomach.

"Good morning." He smiles, tucking some of her hair back from her face with a gentle brush of his fingertips.

"Good morning," she returns the smile and when he's done sweeping her hair aside, they sink in to a kiss. Its a lazy, sleepy thing, but its full of passion. A fire that burns bright in them no matter what time of the day it was. Pretty soon the few clothes they wore are peeled away and he kisses a trail slowly but surely southward. Lingering at the curve in her belly, he runs his hand over the bump and dots some little kisses there. She smiles, tucking her hand in to his hair and watching him in that little interaction with their baby.

Then he flashes her a wicked little grin and continues on his way. Her lazy smile becomes a gentle gasp as he reaches his destination.

Damn him.

* * *

"Good job out there," Leon hangs back with one of the rookies as he and the team they'd just run a simulation with emerge from the elevator and head for the locker rooms. The younger man looks at him a little wide eyed, but nods.

"Thankyou, Sir." He goes to salute and Leon chuckles, stopping the guy before he can do it.

"You got the instincts, it's all there. You haven't put a foot wrong since you got here." He goes on, "so I gotta ask. This really something you want to do?"

"I lost my family in Chicago," the young man nods, "I enlisted in the army when I was eighteen thinking that that was how I could keep them safe. Five years later they're killed in their own homes by those... things." He shakes his head, "and I was overseas cooling my heels while they died, right here."

Leon bows his head, folding his arms around himself.

"My Mom, my Dad, my two sisters.. even my dog." He sighs heavily. "I saw you on the news, telling the world you and the BSAA took down the sons of bitches that did it. I knew right then, this is where I wanna be. Working with people like you to stop that shit happening to anybody else."

Leon nods, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I just want you to be ready. To know.. you get in to this, its your life. You're gonna go through and you're gonna see some shit you can't shake off."

"With all due respect. They can't do anything worse to me than I've already been through, Sir."

Leon studies the young man. 23 years old, with silvery blue eyes and blonde hair steadily growing out from the strict military cut. He was built like Chris Redfield, but he moved just like Leon. Quick as a cat, quiet as a mouse. He'd been a sniper in the army with a flawless record, an up and coming hot shot who's superiors couldn't find enough good words to say about him. His hand to hand combat had almost matched Leon's and with a little more polishing, would easily be brought up to the level. He also sported the highest test scores Leon had seen since he'd started training others. A Chicago kid with a name like Dawson Cash, he already sounded like a goddamn superhero.

"You got another week here before the training and evaluation is over, but," Leon chews on his bottom lip for a moment, "barring some monumental fuck up between now and then.." he trails off and gives the young man a simple nod. Then holds his hand out to him. Dawson's eyes seem to light up, and he takes Leon's hand and shakes it.

"Thankyou, Sir, that means a lot."

"Eh, see if you're still thanking me when you're knee deep in some undead infested sewer," Leon chuckles. "And stop calling me Sir. It's Leon."

"Aye S.. Mr Kennedy.. Leon.." Dawson stammers, giving him a bit of a salute.

Leon smirks. "Get outta here."

With that the youngster hurries off and Leon watches him go. He might finally have found his replacement, if this kid kept on being as good as he had been so far. With a slight sigh Leon slips out of his holsters and carries them to the staff locker room. The simulation today had seen cold and rainy, so a hot shower was definitely on the cards.

Once he's done with that and dressed back in his jeans and leather, he swiftly takes care of the days reports and – clutching them in his hand - heads up to the office of James Hoult.

"Here to drop off the reports?" The receptionist asks him a sickly sweet smile.

Leon nods, tapping them against her desk. "Yeah, but I also need to speak with the Boss, if he's got a minute."

She looks to her computer and then back to him a moment later. "He should be out of his meeting in about ten minutes."

"I'll get a coffee." He nods, leaving the reports with her and wandering off to find a machine. He returns a while later clutching a steaming mug and takes a seat opposite the paintings of the three Archangels, gazing at them intently as though they could somehow give him some answers to the questions that had plagued him since Ada dropped him that card. He felt like he had a lot of pieces to a puzzle in his hands, but fitting them together wasn't quite happening.

"Leon, come in." James snaps him from his thoughts and he drags himself to his feet, leaving his half drunk coffee mug on the table and following the older man in to his office. James gestures for him to have a seat and he does so, glancing at the various items on James's desk as he shuffles papers around. "What can I do for you, Mr Kennedy?"

Leon's eyebrows jump and draws in a breath. "I'll cut to the chase."

"Very good." James nods, not really looking at him. He seemed distracted by something on his computer.

"My wife's pregnant." Leon announces.

James's forehead creases in to a small frown and he finally drags his attention away from the computer, sitting back in his plush leather seat and pulling his glasses from his face. "Really? Thats wonderful news." he says with a brittle smile, producing a cloth from a pocket to rub his lenses.

"Thankyou."

"How far along is she?"

"Three months, two weeks." Leon nods, "only just got the all clear from her Doctor to start telling people. So, here I am."

"I see. Is she well?"

"She's doing great. Better than great, no morning sickness. Nothing. Just a bit tired." He can't help his smile when he talked about her.

"Good.. good." James nods slowly, still polishing those glasses. "So I assume you'll be putting in for some leave?"

"Well, that's kinda the issue." Leon grimaces. "It'll just be putting in to leave. Permanently."

The statement hangs in the air far heavier than Leon anticipated. James says nothing. So Leon continues.

"It's time. I've done all I can here and I don't want my child growing up around this. Born in to this. We're moving. Hope to be finished up here and moved on by the end of her 6th month. So I guess.. this is my 2 month notice." Leon gazes back at the older man as he finishes cleaning his glasses and slowly places them back on his face.

"I see." James says slowly. "And what do you plan to do?"

Leon lets out a bit of a mirthless laugh, "something that doesn't involve me putting my family in danger anymore."

"They're in danger now?"

"In Washington? Yes."

"Any big city is a potential target, Leon."

"I'm aware of that."

"So why step away? Why not stay and fight?"

"Because I'm done with it, James. It's almost 24 years of my life at this point. Some might be in this until they're dead and gone, but this isn't even what I set out to do with my life. I wanted to be a cop, I wanted to help people. But I didn't sign up for parasites and plagues, viruses, mutated giants, a battle that never ends. That never gets any closer to ending."

"That's the thing with evil, Mr Kennedy. It never gives up."

Leon's jaw tenses. "With all due respect. I've bled buckets of blood for this war, I've sacrificed my health, I've made a difference where I can. It's cost me everything and I'm done paying for it. I wont live my whole life in its shadow, I can't. If that's 'giving up' then.." he shakes his head, looking away. "Maybe it is. But its for them. My wife, my child. Protecting them just became my priority." he looks back to James. "I guess if that's wrong you can go ahead and sue me."

Stalemate. A staring contest between different sides of the same coin. Leon could feel an anger bubbling beneath the surface. These people didn't want to let him go. But they could go fuck themselves.

"Very well." James says eventually. "I'll look in to your contract. Have something worked out. You may go."

Leon blinks. "That's it?"

"That's it. You're no use to us if you don't want to be here." The dismissive tone makes Leon's hackles raise.

"You've got to be shitting me."

"What else did you want, Mr Kennedy? You want out, you're out. There's nothing else to say." James levels a stare at him. Leon stares right back.

Then he laughs bitterly, pushing himself to his feet.

"Yeah, you're fuckin' welcome." He mutters, heading for the door. He hears James say something behind him but he doesn't make out what it is. Wrenching the door open he stalks out of James Hoult's office and ignores the cheery receptionist. Ignores everybody. He'd bled for every person in this building, and none of it mattered.

He slams the hallway door so hard behind him the glass cracks.


	17. Seven

**Authors Note:** Time to forget everything you think you know.

* * *

 **Wipe those tears off**  
 **And make your heart proud**

 **Soon I'll come around**  
 **Lost and never found**  
 **Waiting for my words**  
 **Seen but never heard**  
 **Buried underground**  
 **But I'll keep coming**

 **\- Low Roar**

* * *

Jill Valentine

Chris Redfield

Claire Redfield

Sherry Birkin

Jake Muller

… and Leon Kennedy.

Six.

Leon sits back in his desk chair and stares at the names scribbled down on a piece of paper, tapping the pen against the table as his mind reruns missions and events over the past twenty years. All the people he knew of, all the ones that encountered incredible odds and came out the sole survivors not just once, but multiple times. Plenty of people could do it one time with the right guidance, but those of them that looked death in the eye over and over again through the years and emerged in a victory? That was a very, very short list.

His pen poises over Jake's name. Was he really that battle tested yet? Had it been long enough? Jake had only just decided to knuckle down and join with the DSO after years as a ruthless mercenary. He was proving himself, but had he proven himself?

Maybe the 5th wasn't Jake. Maybe it was Rebecca.

He leans forward as Ada's words ring in his head. _"Remember what they are."_ she'd purred. He drops his pen and reaches for the mouse on his computer, tapping on the keyboard and bringing up a new report. He'd been staring at reports all morning. The biggest jobs pulled off in the war against Bio Organic Terrorism over the past twenty years. The Spencer Mansion, Raccoon City, Tall Oaks, Lanshiang, Africa, Spain, Harvardville, Terragrigia, Sushestvovanie Island, Rockfort Island, New York, Alaska, Chicago.. the list went on and on and on. After a while there stopped even being a pattern to the outbreaks and the terror groups, it sprung up everywhere under different names and different plots. From mad scientists to power hungry tyrants to even their own falling in to the darkness. In every case, one or more of a handful of names came out a survivor.

Himself, Chris, Jill, Claire, Sherry.. surviving against the odds and recovering from injuries and infections and every other kind of evil and bouncing back like the damn Terminator, time and again. Little pieces of Ada's puzzle were starting to come together. But he could only come up with six.

Then it hits him, as he brings up a report on the Spencer Mansion incident.

He looks down at the paper.

Barry Burton.

He scribbles the name under his own and stares at it. Whether you crossed off Jake and replaced him with Rebecca or not, there was that number. Seven.

Barry would be the oldest of them, but the guy was still kicking. He was still training agents. He was still doing his thing in this war, working alongside the BSAA. Leon had never met him, but he'd definitely heard about him. He was the kind of guy you wanted at your back, strong as an ox with an iron will and a penchant for using a magnum. He powered his way through assignments, never faltered. For longer than any of them.

Seven. And then there was the fallen one, Albert Wesker. Who tried to corrupt and bring the battle to its knees. Who was seduced by power and greed. He was listed as Deceased now, but his legacy most certainly lived on. Both biologically and in spirit.

He glances from the list to the book he'd taken from Ana's fathers collection on Angelic lore. Archangels were warriors sent by God to rain down fire, fury and retribution to those that deserved it. To those that went against the plan, that defied his word. The seven of them were agents sent by the government to bring justice, bring vengeance, to bring terror to its knees time and again.

He'd noticed something else in his research. In the records of Jill, Chris and Claire. All three of them had fallen gravely ill at the age of four and had spent time at specialist hospitals, the same age he'd been hospitalized with meningitis and according to his parents, had almost died. Another strange coincidence? Or something more sinister?

His heart was thudding a little harder in his chest. Entering 'Archangel' in to the DSO search brought up nothing and he hadn't wanted to dig too far for fear of being flagged by the system. He wasn't in their best favor right now anyway, since handing in his two month notice he was no longer the golden child. He'd managed to set aside the bitterness he felt over the way they were treating him now and focus on getting the last recruits through and in to full time duty. He wanted a stacked deck left behind him – to know he'd done his best, left the best behind. That the country was in safe hands when he finally bowed out to actually live his life.

His phone beeps and he lifts it from the desk, a message from Rebecca. While he couldn't search databases without tipping anybody off, the smartest brain he knew could hack them. She'd sent him simply a screenshot. A password protected file she couldn't get in to. But the name of the file causes his breathing to temporarily stop.

"Archangel Program"

What the fuck was that? His phone suddenly rings and he lifts it to his ear, no speaker for this.

"It exists, Leon. I can't get in to it, it's behind more layers of protection than I've ever seen in my life. And not just encryption from the DSO, but a web of ICE by Umbrella. From what I can tell, there's seven more files behind it."

"Seven." He swallows.

"I'll keep trying, it could take me days."

"Do it. Rebecca.. thankyou."

"Gotcha. What do you think it is?" she asks.

"I don't know for sure, but I have an idea." He sits back in his seat, staring at everything laid out in front of him.

"Alright. Well I'll call you back if I get through."

"Thanks. And.. be careful, okay?" He warns her, hanging up. For a while he simply sits, his mind racing over everything he knew. The more he answered the more questions sprung up. If he was a part of some government project, when had that happened? What had they done to him? What had they done to all of them? And most importantly what did that mean for the future?

His phone rings again and he picks it up, looking at the name. It was Ana. Exactly who he needed to hear from right now, she could unknot the tension building in his stomach. He hits the accept button and smiles as her face lights up the screen.

"Hey darlin', everything okay?" he asks with a gentle smile.

"Hey! Everything's good," she confirms. She looked beautiful, she was really starting to glow with this pregnancy, just the sight of her soothed, "I just wondered if you could do me a tiny favor." She holds her fingers close together in front of the screen, making him laugh.

"Sure, sweetheart. Whatcha need?" He answers.

"I'm having a pretty serious craving." She confessed.

"Uh oh."

"Mmm, could you pick me up pickles?"

He laughs, "you're kidding?"

"Not at all. I am living and fully embracing the cliché. It's like I need them or I might go mad." She grins.

"Alright, I got you." Leon sends her a wink.

"Hows your day going?" she asks, he couldn't quite tell what she was doing. Something in the kitchen he assumed.

"Eh, y'know. Counting down the days now until I can just go." He sighs.

"I'm sorry, you deserve so much better than how they're treating you." She says sadly, then she suddenly looks to her side. He hears the knock on the door as well. "Hang on a second."

He nods, waiting as she crosses through to the front door. He briefly looks back at his computer and the paper and pen sitting in front of him. Maybe none of this mattered if he was leaving. Maybe he could just leave it all in the rear view mirror and never look back.

His attention returns to his wife as he hears her open the front door.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asks in that forever welcoming, friendly tone of hers.

"Mrs Kennedy?" A male voice asks. Leon frowns.

"Yes?"

"Ana Kennedy?"

Leon's jaw tenses a little, something was off.

"Yes, that's me."

He hears the sound of metal unsheathing from leather like it was right there in the room with him, and his heart stops.

The man standing in front of her drops the delivery box he's holding and draws a gun from a holster it had hidden from her sight. Ana lets out a cry and on pure instinct slams the door and throws herself to her hands and knees as a shot pierces wood and flies right over her head. She scrambles to her feet, clutching the phone and bolting into the kitchen as another shot rings out behind her.

"Leon?!" she gasps into the phone, pressing it to her ear as she ducks behind a counter.

"Under the counter, holstered under the sink." he tells her immediately, already on his feet and running. She hears whoever was at the front door begin to kick it in and she crawls quickly over to the sink counter, yanking open the cupboard door and reaching for the Sentinel strapped underneath. Pulling it free she hears another gunshot and the front door splinters.

"I'm coming baby." Leon bolts down the hall to the elevators, curious eyes watching him go.

You didn't marry a man like Leon Kennedy and not pick up a thing or two. Ana creeps around the island counter in their kitchen, keeping low, she peers around its edge and spots a man stalking in to her house. She takes aim and fires, catching him in the knee and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Instantly his guns turned back at her, her shot tipped him off to her location. She can't help the scream as three shots fly past her and bury themselves in the wall right in front of her. As the man lets out his own yell of pain she surges forward, heading for the stairs and getting up four of them when another man appears at the top, aiming down at her. She gasps, hurrying backwards and falling the final two, she lands heavily on her back and it knocks the wind from her, but there was no time to think or deal with it, she rolls out of the way as he fires.

"There's another one!" she cries into the phone, scrambling to her feet and bolting down the hall to the bathroom.

Leon charges out of the elevator as it hits the parking lot, racing to his car.

"Get out! Get out of the house, I'm coming." He instructs.

"And go where?!"

"Just run!"

She'd shut herself in the downstairs bathroom and pressed herself up against the side wall. Her heart was thundering and every instinct she had was screaming at her to protect herself and her baby. There's a tapping against the door and she closes her eyes, they start to rattle the handle and she can't help the little whimper that escapes. Leon felt sick to his stomach, jamming the keys into the ignition of his car and starting it up with a loud, reliable roar. "Hold on, baby." he tells her, dropping the phone into his lap, shoving the car into gear and taking off out of the parking lot with a screech of tires on tarmac.

Two gunshots to break the lock and the bathroom door is kicked open. She was to its side and as soon as the man dressed in all black steps through it, she throws a knee into his groin and as he doubles over, she shoots him in the back of the head. Its point blank, there's so much blood. Tears stream down her face and she resists the urge to throw up as she jumps the body, out into the hall where she sees two more come through the front door. She turns and runs down the hall in the direction of the sliding doors that would lead in to the back yard. Still clutching the phone. She hears two gunshots and one hits a vase beside her just as she passes, causing her to shriek and stumble as ceramic splinters and hits her, a cascade of water and flowers showering the wooden floor, making it slippery and aiding in her fall. Somehow she rolls through it and she quickly tries to get back to her feet. As she moves, a hand clamps around her ankle and she lets out a full on scream. Collapsing onto her back she turns around and kicks out at the man she'd shot in the knee. He'd crawled through the living room to grab her. She kicks him three times right in the face before he releases her and she drags herself to her feet as the other two come around the corner. Firing three shots blindly at them, it makes her attackers duck for cover, hitting one of them in the shoulder. Then she throws herself at the back door. Fumbling with the lock.

"GO! NOW!" Leon yells down the phone.

She wrenches that back door open and tears into the yard, looking over her shoulder as she runs faster than she even knew she could over the patio and onto the grass. Heading for the fence at the back, there was a neighbor across a corn field. That was where she was going. She looks over her shoulder again and sees a figure in the doorway coming after her. Then she slams straight in to a wall of a human being who seemed to come out of nowhere. Giant arms wrapping around her and lifting her from her feet. She lets out a scream so loud her voice gives out. He wrenches the gun out of her hand and throws it away then clamps his palm over her mouth, the arm holding her up shifts to cover her throat. She struggles and kicks at him, but the forearm clamped around her neck stifled her breathing and pressed against an artery, she could feel the light headedness take hold. She screams 'No' against his palm, but it was useless.

Leon hears it all, his knuckles white as he clutches the wheel.

"YOU FUCKING HURT HER I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN!" He yells at the phone.

It was still broadcasting video and the pictures make his stomach turn. He sees the figures in the back doorway. Can hear her struggling. He was breaking every speed law and road rule known to man, the fastest car available to the public on the planet, and he was still so far away.

As Ana loses consciousness, the phone slips from her hand. Her body going limp in the arms of the large man that caught her.

Leon grits his teeth as the screen goes black, the phone thudding into the grass. Then suddenly it's moving again, lifting steadily, he's shown his wife, lifeless in some mountain of a man's grasp. "Whoever you are, I'm going to fucking kill you. All of you." Leon growls. He'd never meant anything more seriously in his life. "Get your fucking hands off of her."

Nothing but a laugh, and the call hangs up.

"FUCK!" Leon shouts, slamming his hands against the wheel. He was still a few minutes from the house, but he pushes that car to its absolute limit. Driving like the devils on his tail, he screeches in to their drive and his blood runs cold. There were tire marks on the stone and the front door was wide open. He gets out of the car and draws his magnum from his thigh, suddenly light on his feet and moving like he was about to infiltrate an enemy base instead of his own home. Through the door, he feels like he might throw up. The sight of blood on the floor makes him cold. It had to be theirs, it wasn't Ana's. He stalks through the house, taking in the bullet holes in the walls and more blood streaked everywhere. Finding the body in the downstairs bathroom, she'd shot the guy through the back of his skull.

"Good girl," he mutters, though it's the tiniest victory he can imagine.

There's water and flowers in the hall, more blood on the rug and the wooden floor. But no sign of who that blood belonged to. The house was quiet, deathly so. He considers checking upstairs but the grim certainty that whoever had attacked her had already left was settling in. He reaches the back door and steps out onto the patio, gun raised he checks in all directions and then moves swiftly out onto the grass. He spots the Sentinel and the phone around 15 feet from the back fence. He'd watched her vault on to Dutchmans back so many times, she was going to jump the back fence and run to the nearest neighbor across the field. Amidst the horror of what was happening, he feels so proud of her, even he hadn't thought of that.

He crouches down, picking up the gun and checking the clip, she'd fired a lot of shots back at them. He bows his head, running the back of his hand under his nose as anger mixes with despair and he resists the urge to lose his shit. He had to keep his head, he had to keep it together. Taking a deep breath he picks up the phone and goes through the files, looking for anything. Any hint. Crouched there on damp grass he replays the saved footage of the entire thing, a lot of it was shaky and not focused, but she'd purposefully gotten shots of the guys attacking her. More of that pride wells up inside him and he grits his teeth as a single tear rolls down his cheek. There was nothing to go on, though. They were wearing plain black masks over their faces and black clothing head to foot.

The sounds as she was caught, her desperate screams and the struggle she put up. He could hear her kicking the mountain of a man that grabbed her. She'd fought so hard, but she was so little. There's some small amount of satisfaction in knowing that his tiny wife had fought back and killed one of them, injuring others. But the last one had been too much, he could hear her choking and screaming 'No' in to the giants palm. Whoever it was had choked her out, wanting her alive.

His hand was shaking.

He rises to his feet and pockets the phone, looking around the back yard for any sign of anything. Any clue. But there was nothing. Holstering his gun he jogs back to the house, moving through to the bathroom again and dropping to one knee at the side of the dead guy. He peels off the mask and gets a look at him. Your average thug, shaved head and an exit wound where his nose should have been. He rolls him on to his back and begins searching him. He wore nothing but a long sleeved black t shirt and black jeans, there was nothing helpful in the pockets.

Leon gets back to his feet and stares down at the body, then with a growl of anger he kicks it. Who were these people? Something related to the terrorists he helped take down in Spain? The ones responsible for Chicago? The DSO had put him on the news and now his pregnant wife was in danger, the very thing he'd warned against when they first met. This was on him.

There's a slight noise out in the house and instantly his guns drawn and he's stalking down the corridor. What he finds, is the figure of a woman standing by the back doors, looking out across the yard. As his boot crunches on shattered vase, Ada turns her head to look at him. He keeps the gun on her.

"If you're responsible for this, I will fucking end you." Leon growls, gun aimed right between her eyes. For once, Ada doesn't smile. There's no hint toward her usual, cocky mannerisms. No toying with him. Instead she lifts her empty, leather gloved hands that matched her leather pants and turns to face him.

"I didn't do this, Leon. I'm here to help." She says quietly.

He doesn't lower his gun. "How the fuck do you even know about it?"

"I told you, they're always watching."

"Who? No more fucking around, Ada. Tell me what's going on. Who's watching?"

She sighs deeply, that gun not three feet from her face now, she looks straight down it's barrel and in to Leon's eyes.

"The very people you work for." She says quietly. His eyes narrow.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Leon you are a part of something so much bigger than you can imagine," Ada slowly lowers her hands and gestures to the pocket of her tight fitting pants. He allows it and she draws her phone, hitting a few keys on the screen, it makes a strange noise and she places it down on the table beside them.

"What's that?"

"It's to keep them from hearing, just for a minute." She explains.

"You couldn't do that before?"

"It was too dangerous."

"I think we're past dangerous, my wife's pregnant." Leon growls.

"I know she is. I'm sorry this happened." Ada shakes her head, "I warned you."

"Bullshit, you ran me in circles, talked in your cryptic fucking codes." Still, he doesn't lower that gun.

"I tried. That's all I can do. Try.. to steer you in the right directions. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don't. When you don't, I try to help you. But now I can't just stand by and watch anymore. All these years, Leon." She gives him the gentlest smile she ever had, she almost seemed like a normal woman. "if Hunnigan was your handler, then I was your guide."

Leon stares at her.

"Who are you?"

"The better question is who are you.." she steps closer, closing the gap between her face and the gun. "Forget everything you think you know. Do you think when these major pharma companies first started messing with DNA and deadly viruses all those years ago the government didn't begin preparing for all eventual outcomes? That the companies themselves didn't start preparing? People knew what was happening, where it could all lead. So they used the technology to build their defenses." Ada glances at her phone, a countdown running on it that let her know how much longer they had with a disrupted signal. Without a doubt, this house was bugged.

"Archangel." Leon says flatly.

"Archangel." Ada confirms with a small nod. "You and seven others, over the span of several years. One child chosen that met a series of pre existing criteria. You were.. enhanced." It was the shortest explanation she could give in the time they had.

"Bullshit." Leon snarls.

"How do you think you've survived the things you've survived? The wounds you've sustained? How do you think you can remember entire pages of text at a glance? That you learn a skill after being shown it once? That by the age of thirty you were fully proficient in more martial arts and gunfighting skills than most people can even get halfway good at by the time they're fifty? That you can calculate times and distances in your head in a heartbeat. That you sense the enemy when they're around you?" Ada lifts her hand and places it on the barrel of the gun, coaxing him to lower it. "You and others were chosen to protect the world. You were given the tools to do it. And your lives were guided and shaped by people like me, to get you where you needed to be." She lets her hand slip from the now lowered gun. "You couldn't know. None of you. It all had to seem organic. It had to feel like it came from you or you might rebel against it. That's why the secrecy."

"That's how you always showed up right when I needed you.." Leon murmurs, his hand holding the gun now hanging at his side. The weight of this information sinking in like a stone.

"Like I said, I was your guide. Your Guardian. To step in when you veered from the path you needed to be on. To help you.. when needed."

"But who _are_ you?" He asks. She bows her head for a moment, looking to the countdown, then back to him.

"I'm the daughter of the man that created the project with the intent of making the world a safer place. He was murdered when Umbrella's leaders fragmented." She answers. "There's not much time left. The people behind Umbrella were responsible for the technology provided to the government to create you. The company divided, in to the story you know and the story you don't. The heads of the new Blue Umbrella, they own you. What's more, they own your wife."

He blinks, teeth clenching. "The fuck does that mean?"

"She signed herself in to their project. And you got her pregnant. The child of an Archangel?" She laughs mirthlessly and shakes her head. "That's more valuable than any virus or bio weapon on the planet."

"Who took her?" He asks with the grim feeling he knew exactly who she was about to say.

"They did." Ada answers.

Leon doubles over, hands going to his knees, gun clattering to the floor as he fights for air. The weight of it settling on his shoulders and impossible to bear. "It's my fault."

"They couldn't let you leave." Ada gently places a hand on his shoulder.

Leon drags his hands through his hair and stands straight, turning to the wall nearby and leaning against it in order to keep himself up. "How do I know you're not just fucking with me? You've done some awful shit, Ada." He rumbles.

"I have, sometimes in war you have to make the hard decisions. You have to move the chess pieces in order to reach the final outcome. I've had to handle things I'd rather not.. but the endgame was what mattered. In every case. I'm not fucking with you." It was the most human and sincere he'd ever heard her sound. "Tell Rebecca the passwords are the initials of all seven of you combined with the years you were born. You can see for yourself."

With that, the phone beeps and the time is up. Her voice instantly switches back to her usual, Ada tone.

"I'll do what I can to help you, Leon. But you'll have to find her yourself." She backs away, slipping the phone back in to her pocket.

He looks over his shoulder at her, their eyes meeting, holding. He gives her the smallest nod. Then she's gone.

He turns and leans his back against the blood streaked wall, then slowly sinks down to the floor. Drawing his knees up he wraps his hands around the back of his head and lets out a long, low growl. It becomes a sob. It was all his fault.


	18. You Bet Your Life

**Authors Note:** Slight warning for disturbing content. But if you're reading a rated M story, you should be ready.

* * *

 **If I'm gonna sit and wait then I might as well**  
 **Ask for the hand of the Devil himself**  
 **I thought I heard him laugh but it was hard to tell**

 **\- Wolf Alice**

* * *

Leon had never had much cause to celebrate Christmas, not since he was a kid and the whole thing was still magical. The last few, from what he could remember, he'd spent alone in various bars drinking the day away. Needless to say, it had lost its magic some time ago. But Ana loved it, it sparkled just like she did and he was starting to see the wonder of it again, especially with a child on the way. He looked forward to seeing Christmas through his son's or daughter's eyes, the excitement of the night before and the joy of the morning. It was one of the many things he was looking forward to now. Two years ago his life had looked like nothing but a bleak descent toward an inevitable painful death. Now? He saw hope in her.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks, arriving at his side with a small box in her hand and plucking from it a glittering red glass bauble. She smiles at him and reaches out, hanging it on the almost fully decorated Christmas tree in their living room. He lifts his hand and lightly brushes it over her back, returning her smile with an adoring look in his eyes.

"Just thinking that for a trained killer I'm pretty good with tinsel." He muses and it makes her laugh, plucking another bauble from the box and hanging it in its place.

"You did good, Mr Kennedy," she nods her agreement. The tree was themed with red and gold and he'd strung the tinsel in a kind of criss cross pattern, it was meticulous and looked great. She'd scattered baubles and little gift shaped decorations in the gaps. It was almost complete.

She hangs the last of the glittery glass baubles and sets the box down. "One thing left."

"Hm?" He lifts his eyebrows.

She turns away and returns with a golden star that would sit at the top. "It needs its crown."

He fetches her a chair from the dining table but remains at her side as she climbs on to it, offering her a guiding hand. She vaulted on to horses regularly but now she was pregnant there was no harm in being a little extra careful. She puts her hand on his shoulder and gets her balance, while his hands rest at her hips, watching as she reaches and places the star carefully on the top.

"Perfect," she declares with a smile, looking down at him.

"Perfect," he nods, looking from the completed tree back to his wife's equally sparkly eyes. For a moment, they're quiet. That gaze holding as his hand slips around to rest on the slight curve of her tummy.

"You saved my life," he murmurs, taking her a little by surprise. Her smile spreads and she runs a hand through his mop of hair.

"You've never needed saving," she replies quietly. "You've always been the strongest person I know."

He looks away and down to the bump in her belly, then leans in and gently presses a kiss to it. Lingering there. Its a tender moment that needs no more words. He would die protecting her and their child, no question of it.

His eyes open and the memory slowly slips away. Last night seemed like weeks ago. On his knees in front of that Christmas tree, he gazes at a broken glass bauble on the floor in front of him. In the struggle someone had knocked in to it, ruining the meticulous decoration. It was the least of his worries, but somehow since Ada had left, it was all he could focus on. That broken red bauble, so fragile and so beautiful.

Its a strange thing, to be told your entire life has been a lie. A masquerade. He didn't know what was real anymore, what he'd been manipulated in to and what had been his own decisions. He wanted more answers, he wanted to know exactly what had been done to him and to others, to people he considered friends. Before his death, Adam Benford had said the world deserved to know the truth about the projects that had led to Raccoon City. About the secrets and lies and cover ups. He'd wanted the chips to fall where they may and for America to make up its own mind. To decide how they wanted this country run.

The President had wanted to make a real difference, put out the truth, lay all the cards on the table. Ultimately, he'd been silenced. The powers that be – men more powerful than the President himself – had stopped that truth from ever surfacing. At the time, Leon had felt like there was more to it than just Raccoon City. Just the ongoing battle against Bio Organic Weapons. Had Adam known? Known about the Archangel Project? Known what Leon really was? Was that why he'd trusted Leon so implicitly?

Of course he'd known. Ada had said it was the high ups in the Government that wanted the Archangel Project as a protection, as an insurance against the possibilities being dreamed up in labs all over the world. If the public found out the Government had been taking sick babies and pumping them full of whatever the hell it was that had enhanced the 'Archangels', there would be an outcry. Human rights issues springing up, lawsuits from parents, lawsuits from hospitals. It would have broken America's trust in its leaders for sure – and Adam had been brave enough to want to face that. To be honest. To earn their trust and their faith back no matter what the cost. And he'd been silenced.

Leon grits his teeth, staring at that broken bauble. How much of his life was a lie? How much was just him being a pawn in someone else's game. Moving him to battles that weren't his. Putting his life on the line for him. He'd fought for his life so many times, and those fucks had put him there. On the one hand he could understand the want to protect the world by any means necessary. Sometimes you had to sacrifice for the greater good.

But did good people deserve to be so completely manipulated? To be thought of as nothing but property to be shuffled around and put in to the high risk situations nobody else wanted to face? Had his brother really died in an 'accident'? His brother Michael's car accident had been the catalyst for Leon to want to join the police force, it was one of the defining moments of his life and there had never been any real justice. Was that just a chess move? A shot across the board? Get him where he needed to be? Had the Goddamn Government had his brother killed to push him in to that spot? The more he thinks on it, the more he remembers, the more he starts to see the signs. After his brothers accident the coincidences began. He was randomly handed a leaflet on signing up to Police training on his way out of the hospital after he'd said his goodbyes. It had started springing up everywhere, subliminal messages telling him what to do. And on his first day he was there for a glimpse at the Apocalypse, and Ada had been there, guiding him through his first fight against Bio Weapons.

And now he'd started breaking away from their program, he'd found a life and a love of his own and they were trying to take it away from him.

Those fucks.

They were dead. Every – last – one of them.

His fingers close around the dropped gun laying at his side, its weight comforting in his hand as he picks it up and then slowly forces himself to his feet. He slides the weapon back into its holster and continues to gaze down at that broken bauble. After a minute, he lifts his eyes to the mantle above the fireplace not far from the tree and the wedding photo that sat there upon it. She'd looked so beautiful that day – she looked beautiful every day – but that day she'd outshone anything he'd seen before. They looked so happy in front of that waterfall, like the world wasn't a disgusting mess around them. Like Chicago wasn't in ruins, like monsters weren't running around tearing people apart. It had been a perfect day, reminding everyone there to keep going.

He turns and heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time and entering the bedroom. Moving past some of his wife's clothes folded on the bed and to the large walk-in wardrobe. He pulls down a stack of jeans and thumps his palm against a wooden panel at the back. It comes away with a click and he begins to unload the contents of the little hidden away locker. The two BSAA Assault Rifles he'd rescued from the helicopter crash and told her to hang on to, they'd moved them here a while ago. He sets them down and pulls out two deadly sharp combat knives.

As he moves, gathering things together, he gets on the phone to Rebecca. Telling her to look up the birth dates of everybody on the list he'd given her. Telling her the secret to the password. She tells him she'll call him back and he nods, putting the phone down and stripping off his jacket and shirt. He grabs a tactical shirt, strapping a vest over it, then a white button down over that. His jeans come off only for him to yank on knee pads and redress, changing sneakers for combat boots. He ties the laces tight. Then begins the process of strategically strapping weapons to himself. They wanted a one man army, they were going to get one.

His phone rings and he grabs it, sitting on the edge of the bed he shared with his wife.

"It's not working," Rebecca tells him.

He clucks his tongue in his mouth. "Switch out Jake's initials and birth date for your own."

"Mine?!" She sounded confused.

"Yours." He nods, "you're the smartest person I know, Rebecca. You've beat countless virus making assholes at their own game, it's like you see their moves before they do."

"Oh... kayyyy..." she says slowly.

He can hear her typing and he closes his eyes. If he was right, Archangels weren't just warriors. They all had the skills to fight, yes, but some of them were intended for other purposes. Like the ones in the books, they'd all governed over different things. Had different reasons for their creation.

"It worked.." she breathes. "I'm in."

Leon's eyes snap open.

"My God." Rebecca murmurs.

"Congratulations, you're one of the chosen." Leon responds in a flat, focused tone.

"I don't.. what IS this?"

"the Governments answer to the progression of bio-organic weapons. They bio-engineered themselves some superheroes." He quips, he'd never found anything less funny.

"We were just children." Rebecca sounded floored.

"We all had something in us, something that made us a candidate for whatever the procedure was. We got sick, we went in to hospital, our parents thought we were being treated for an illness and what they were actually doing..."

"Was changing us." Rebecca's voice was shaken. "Barry was the first, he was 8 when they placed him in the program. From what I can tell it was experimental at the time.. it wasn't until Chris, Jill and you that they had it perfected. This is.. this is so wrong."

"No mention that the parents had any clue?"

"None."

"I knew it." He closes his eyes.

"My Dad always said he never knew where I got my brains from. I thought he was just being.. well, a dad."

"They killed my brother." He says it with certainty.

"There's so much to read through," Rebecca sighs, "I'm going to start printing it out, and I'm going to back it all up."

"Do it, and do it quickly before they realize."

"I'm on it."

"President Benford said before he died that he wanted to tell the world the truth about this war. That people deserved to know America's part in it. I'm pretty sure – now – this was part of what he was talking about."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get my wife back, and I'm going to expose these fucks." He says flatly.

"Wait, they've got Ana?"

"Its a long story and I don't have much time, Rebecca, just get what you can.. and.. stay safe."

"I will."

That said, Leon hangs up and shoves his phone in to the pocket of his jeans. Getting to his feet he catches sight of himself in the full length mirror. He looked like a one man war machine. With that thought in mind he shrugs on his leather jacket, throws the two Assault Rifles in to a black holdall alongside a few other toys and zips it up. Grabbing the handles he thunders down the stairs and back to his car.

The Dodge Demon roars his fury for him and his hands close around the wheel.

Suddenly, perfect calm. And that was really.. really dangerous.

* * *

She felt the music in her bones, her eyes closed as she moved out on to the stage and her hand curled around that light warmed, metal pole. Her hips swing to its sultry beat and she bends at the waist, flicking her hair back with an arch of her back as the beat kicks in. Bathed in seductive purple light she fixes her eyes on a man in the front row, drinking her in with his eyes. She always performed to just one, no matter how many were watching. Pick the cutest she could see from the stage and dance just for him. That way it didn't feel quite so hollow, like she was selling herself.

She might not be a professional dancer, but the control she had over her body in eight inch platform heels took some serious practice. She'd danced to this slow moving track a hundred times, it was called 'Angel'.. fitting, for a pole dancer.

Her hand runs down over her chest as her other holds her up, keeping her from falling as she arches backwards and her hair touches the floor. Then with a display of upper body strength, she kicks her legs up and wraps them around the pole, lifting herself upright, she fixes her eyes again on the man at the front. He looked so familiar.

As she lowers her legs back to the floor and continues her dance, the atmosphere in the room begins to change, the lights turning slowly red. She sweeps her hair to one side and makes one full swing of the pole, when someone in the crowd grabs at her ankle.

"HEY!" she kicks him off, grabby handed patrons weren't unusual. But he grabs for her again and gets a hold of her leg. Her heart shoots in to her throat as he lunges forward and tries to bite her. She lets out a scream and in an instant the club dissolves into chaos. Screaming people everywhere as the undead charge in and start biting. She fights with the one clinging to her leg, striking it with the heel of her shoe and falling to the floor of the stage. She scrambles to get to her feet and suddenly she's offered a hand. She looks up, seeing his familiar face in front of her.

"I got you." Leon says, pulling her up and into his arms, he draws his gun on the creature at her feet, firing a shot between the eyes. Amidst the chaos, her hero saves her. Like he always promised he would.

The first thing to return is a thumping in her head and behind her eyes, like something inside her skull was trying to break out. Her mouth felt dry, like it was full of sand and the lights above her were so bright that when her eyes open a fraction they blind her, and she closes them tightly shut again. Her ears were ringing and for some reason she could still smell the stench of death that had been in her nightmarish dream. But she was waking in to a real life nightmare, the memories of what had happened in the house coming flooding back as consciousness returned. Her throat hurt terribly, and as she goes to rub her eyes she realizes she can't. A deep panic settles in, her wrists were clamped down and she couldn't move her legs either.

She forces her eyes open against the glare of the lights above, looking away from them and to her side, squinting in an effort to see. As energy begins to return along with her consciousness, she begins to fight against the restraints, realizing she was dressed now in nothing but one of those medical paper gowns. Her arms were pinned out to her sides and she looks from one to the other, noticing an IV needle taped in to her right. She lets out a whimper, trying to see what the needle was connected to, but it was behind her. "Where am I? Let me out of here.." she tries to cry out the words in a plea but her throat was so dry it came out hoarse. "Is anybody there?" she feels a hot tear run down her cheek. Nobody answers her and she begins to focus on yanking at the restraints. Metal cut in to her skin and hurt, but she didn't know what else to do. Eventually, she lets out a frustrated yell that dissolves in to sobs.

"Don't bother," a male voice makes her shiver as she returns to straining against the cuffs keeping her pinned, "even if you managed to slip free somehow, you're not getting out of here."

"Who's there?" she asks, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear what sounded like metal clinking against metal and she strains to see, whoever it was was behind her. Out of her field of vision. "What do you want?"

"Its better if you just relax."

"Relax?!" she laughs bitterly, "you abducted me!"

"I did no such thing."

"Well someone did. Where am I? What's going on?"

"My dear, you are about to grant the world a great gift."

She feels a shiver of cold run through her. "What do you mean?"

She hears him move, straining to see and then suddenly a man in a lab coat and protective mask comes around to her side. He looked like he was getting ready for surgery, complete with surgical gloves. More tears well up and she feels herself trying to shrink away from him. "What are you doing?"

"It's not what I'm doing that matters," he reaches out and places a hand on her forehead, stroking her hair back in an almost loving manner. She wanted to scream but nothing comes. "It's what you're doing."

"Let me go, please. I'm pregnant."

"Yes my dear, and what you carry could stand to save millions of lives. You'll be a hero."

"I don't understand, stop.. please."

He says nothing more, moving around her like an unfeeling, uncaring robot. He injects something else in to the IV in her arm and she feels its warmth tingle all the way up to her shoulder.

"What is that?!" she cries.

"Try to relax."

"Fuck you! Let me go!" she yanks hard at the restraints. The surgeon moves around to her side again, plucking an oxygen mask down from some equipment behind her head and placing it over her face. "STOP!"

"Just breathe. It'll be over soon."

"LEON!" She screams in to the mask.

Everything fades to black.

* * *

Leon parks in his space in the underground parking lot after passing through security with a flash of his DSO ID. Quieting his car he reaches over to the back seat and pulls out the black holdall, bringing it into his lap and opening up the door to let himself out. He strides toward the elevator and as he gets closer to it he breaks in to a jog, stopping beside a dumpster placed near the entry way, he tucks the black holdall down under it. Swiftly back to his feet he runs a hand through his hair and steps into the elevator, thumbing the button for the 10th floor. It was not unusual for him to enter this building strapped, and he was banking on them counting on him to not have the knowledge he had. Government types never showed their hand until they were confronted. It was a risk, and he was prepared for the fight of his life. If it happened now or an hour from now.

If he went down, he'd take this whole fucking building with him.

The elevator stops at a handful of floors and nobody of consequence boards, he smiles, nothings wrong.

Hitting floor 10, he exits and strides toward the offices of James Hoult. Something is stirring, he notices the security on their radios and the anxious looks in their eyes. Quickening his pace he slams a hand in to a swinging door and walks right past James' secretary, who calls after him, telling him Mr Hoult was busy and in a meeting. Leon couldn't give a shit. He slams both hands in to the door and it swings open, revealing James at his desk surrounded by other stuffy old men in suits.

Without missing a beat, he draws his magnum and in four strides is in front of James, the barrel of his gun between his eyes.

"Where's my wife?"

Denial. James looks suitably worried about his predicament but leaps straight to denying it. "Have you lost your mind? I have no idea where your wife is!"

"Cut the shit. I know you have her – you, Blue Umbrella, it's all the goddamn same isn't it?" He tilts his head slightly. Other men shift uncomfortably in their chairs and suddenly the room is full of security with their guns drawn on Leon. He never takes his eyes off of Hoult.

"Excuse me?" James looks incredulous. "I know nothing about your wife, lets not do anything rash, if something's happened then let us help."

Leon narrows his eyes. "I don't believe you."

"Well there's nothing I can do for you."

"Why don't you tell them about Archangel." Leon nods toward the gathered group of men. More uncomfortable shifting in seats. The color seems to drain from James' face. "Why don't you tell them how you had President Benford silenced? Because he wanted to tell the world the truth. Why don't you tell them you had sick children taken from under their parents noses and put in to your manipulative program, so old fucks like you could have someone to clean up the messes they made?" He seethes, pressing the muzzle of that gun hard against James' forehead.

"Put it down, Leon. You're angry and upset, we get it. But this isn't the way. You can't help your wife like this." One of the security team shouts over him.

"All these guns for me?" He glances quickly around the gathered security. He'd laugh, if he wasn't feeling completely deadly. He then looks back to James. "I wonder why? Cause you know on your best day not one of you fucks can take me out. Because this shithead made me better, faster, stronger. Isn't that how the song goes?"

"We don't know what you're talking about Leon," some faceless voice speaks up.

"No? Ask him. Our fearless leader. Ask this piece of shit who he's covering up for. That Blue Umbrella is run by the same pack of scumbags that ran the original Umbrella and unleashed this hell on all of us in the first place. Tell them... tell them about your insurance policy. Tell them about the Archangel program."

He suddenly leans forward, grabbing James' chin and clenching hard, he gets close, gun still pressed to his forehead and almost nose to nose. "Tell them how you had my pregnant wife abducted."

"You've lost your mind," James laughs nervously.

"Well guess who pushed me to the edge?" Leon hisses.

"Leon, drop it!" More security, barking their orders.

He laughs. "You fucking coward." he looks James directly in the eye. "How do you sit here on your throne and live with yourself?"

"Leon, I don't know what's happened to your wife." James says steadily. "You should put the gun down, go home, and let the police know what's happened. We can handle this."

"WHERE IS SHE?!" He yells in the man's face.

Someone triggers the alarm, an evacuation alert. Leon's jaw tenses and he reaches around, grabbing the back of James' shirt and hauling him to his feet, switching so that the gun is held to the back of his head.

"We're going to go visit Blue Umbrella. Lets see what they got up there on the penthouse." He hisses next to James' ear.

"Leon, I'm telling you.."

"Telling me what?" He nudges him forward. The building was descending into chaos as the evacuation began. Leon didn't know who was responsible for setting it off, but it had wonderful timing. Something at the back of his mind told him it was Ada.

"That if you do this.." James lowers his voice under the din of the alarm so only Leon could hear, "it will be the end of the both of you."

It was all the confirmation Leon needed. "Move, you son of a bitch." He presses the muzzle of the magnum hard against the older man's head and forces him forward. Out of the office. Security weren't equipped for this and as they reach the hallway, the sprinklers start. A fire warning.

Ada. Thankyou.

Chaos slowed everything down, response times from anybody alerted would be thrown in to disarray. Leon marches James to the elevator and gets him inside, the glare in his eyes keeps the security from following them too. He didn't want to shoot innocent men. It didn't mean he wouldn't. He thumps the button with the Umbrella logo on it.

"You don't know what you're doing." James tells him as the doors close.

"I know my wife is in this building against her will." He rumbles. "I know your name is all over the Archangel Program. Was it you that had Ada Wong's father killed? Or another one of you Puppetmasters?"

James grits his teeth. "Wong? Is **that** where you're getting your information?"

"I have way more reasons to trust her than you."

"Like what, she let you inside her a handful of times? You're like a pathetic puppy dog around women Mr Kennedy. Blinded by tits and a pretty face."

"Its funny that you know we had sex. I wonder how? Watching my every move maybe?" Leon reminds him that the guns at the base of his skull.

"We keep tabs on our Agents for their safety."

"You keep tabs on us because we cost you money. Because we're your performing monkeys. Cleaning up the messes you don't have the balls to."

"Leon, you have no idea. No idea what it takes to keep this country safe. Nobody ever said war would be fair, or even just. You've been given a gift, and you're crying about it."

"Fuck you! And Fuck your gift! You think what's in my head is a goddamn gift?" He rages, "the things I've seen? The things WE'VE been through to fight your wars?!"

The elevator stops with a 'ding' at a much earlier floor than Umbrellas. Leon's rage stops in its tracks and his eyebrows jump as the doors slide open. He's greeted with the barrels of two guns. One held by a blonde, one held by a redhead. Sara and Leah, the two agents he'd trained himself.

"Leon.. let him go." Sara says coolly.

Leon holds steady, looking back at the two of them. "You're not going to shoot me."

With a deafening bang, Leah does exactly that. Shooting Leon directly in the shoulder. He staggers back from the force of it and hits the back of the elevator, sliding down it and clutching the area as it throbbed in an almost overwhelming pain. Getting shot really fucking sucked.

"Run Mr Hoult, use the stairs." Sara quickly instructs the older man and Leon growls through his teeth. Hoult looks down at him and adjusts his tie, then does as he's told. Jogging away through the rain of the sprinklers in the direction of the lit up exit stairwell. The alarm still rang out and Leah steps in to the elevator, hitting a button to keep it from going anywhere. She looks down at Leon.

"PTSD really fucked you up, huh?" She sighs, "its a shame. A lot of us really looked up to you."

He looks up at her, clutching his arm. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Hopefully they can get you some therapy or something." Sara shakes her head, coming over to him and helping him up. "You going to come quietly?"

He nods, once he's back on his feet, he glances between them.

"To be honest though.." he speaks up, "you two are kinda a disappointment to me. I thought I trained you better."

Leah frowns, laughing a little. "How so?"

He drops his hand from his shoulder. "You didn't even notice there was no blood." He thumbs toward the wall behind him, then in a lightning fast move has their guns out of their hands and dismantled. He tosses them away with a clatter, turning to face the two women as they glare at him from the elevator.

"But you did put a hole in my fucking jacket." He snarls, shrugging off the leather and letting it drop, the sprinklers soak through the white business shirt he wore and reveal the body armour beneath. "That just pisses me off."

The two women charge at him.


	19. Cold Blood

**Authors Note:** Violence. Its a fine line to walk. Thankyou so much for the love notes.

* * *

 **This is a war**  
 **And our blood will draw the battle lines**

 **\- The Phantoms**

* * *

"The President Benford Memorial building is currently being evacuated due to an alleged attack upon the Division of Security Operations offices. In the wake of the Chicago incident, tensions have been running high across the board – those suspected to be behind the devastating terrorist attack in Chicago were apprehended earlier this year in a joint effort between the DSO and the BSAA, an effort led by one Leon S. Kennedy. Agent Kennedy was formerly an advisor to President Benford himself, and is highly regarded among friends and co-workers. A field agent for the Government since the horrifying events of Raccoon City. It is now believed that Leon Kennedy himself is responsible for the ongoing attack on the DSO offices. Ties to the Chicago terrorist group have not been confirmed at this time, but our sources say the once highly regarded Government Agent may have been an informant and double agent this entire time. More as it unfolds."

"This is horse shit." Chris Redfield glowers.

Unfolding his arms from around himself he glances sideways at Jill Valentine who returns his look with a small nod. They'd arrived just minutes ago after being called in, to a scene of complete chaos outside the tower block they both reported to. Listening to the so-called reporters across the street from the fortress of a building was an utter joke. As forces are gathered to storm the tower and take down one man, Chris and Jill march quickly across the street and flash their BSAA ID's at the cordon security. Ducking under tape, they head for the underground parking lot.

* * *

Leah and Sara charge at Leon in a perfect, practised tandem and that's their second mistake. He drops down shoulder first and rolls through, under their attack he scoops up his magnum from the floor of the elevator and shoves it back in its thigh holster, then in a fluid movement kicks off of the back of the small booth and turns in the air, grabbing the ledge of the doors and swinging out a double kick that hits both of them as they once again head his way. It knocks them back and he lands like a cat. Bent knees and fingertips touching the floor, he glares at them as they get their balance back.

"I don't wanna hurt you."

His warning goes unheeded and as sprinklers rain down upon them, soaking them through, he takes them back to school.

Their attempts at tag teaming him don't work and thankfully for them, they learn that quickly. Leah swings and he catches her arm, twisting and throwing a heavy kick in to her throat. She staggers away and Sara attacks him from behind, he grasps her arm and throws her over his shoulder, sending her crashing to the floor. Enraged, Leah ignores the pain in her throat and grabs a chair from a desk, hurling it at him it hits its mark but doesn't move him, he grabs it and tosses it back at her, knocking her down as Sara flips back to her feet. She throws a kick at his ribs and he catches it, elbowing back in to her gut and then using her own leg to throw her down on the floor.

His forearm blocks a strike from Leah and he meets her eyes for a split second. A series of traded and blocked blows later and she crashes to the floor as Sara leaps on Leon's back, wrapping her arm around his throat in an attempt to choke him. In that split second he sees his wife in the arms of that giant of a man and he growls as he rushes backward, slamming her hard into the wall. She releases her grip with a cry of pain but he keeps hold of her arms, swinging her over his shoulder and sending her smashing through a wooden desk. He rips the cuffs off of her hip and slaps one around her wrist, attaching the other to pipe running the length of the floors skirting.

No time to think about it, or explain. Leah kicks him in the back and he hits the wall face first. He hears her a fraction behind him and dodges, letting her run herself in to the wall he grabs the back of her head by a handful of hair and turns her to face him for a heartbeat.

"I can explain."

She swings a punch and he dodges, then runs three steps forward. Still holding her by the hair he runs up the damn wall and pushes off of it, flipping backward, landing on his feet and sending her face first into the floor with incredible force. She's out cold, and probably has a broken nose. He stands over her with his fists clenched and a handful of her hair between his fingers. "I'm sorry." He says in a heavy breath, dropping to one knee as he fixes Leah's hands behind her back with her own cuffs. They snap in place and he looks to Sara who stares up at him.

"What are you doing Leon?!"

"What I have to." he tells her, "they took my wife."

"You've lost your mind, they'll send a whole SWAT team in here for you, you realize that?"

He shakes his head, swiping his sodden hair and water from his eyes with a brush of his hand. "Then let them."

With that, he's gone. Turning and running for the stairwell Hoult had vanished down moments earlier. He bursts through the door and leans over the barrier, looking first down and then up, though above the noise of the alarm it's hard to hear anything. He can't see him. "Where the fuck did you go?" he growls, then slams his hands against the railing and heads back in to the office floor. He jogs past a still scowling Sara and back to the elevator. He didn't have time to play Hunt the Hoult, his wife was here somewhere and he needed to find her. He follows his instincts, they'd never let him down before and he didn't see why they'd start today. Leon smacks the button to unlock the elevator, then thumbs for the floor of Umbrella. That stupid blue logo, they really thought changing the color and releasing some shiny high quality commercials about how they were reformed and working toward a better future for everybody could erase the bullshit that was their past.

He cracks his knuckles as the elevator doors close and it begins its ascent. Looking upward as he nears their first floor, he realizes they weren't going to be unprepared. The DSO might have been loathe to show its hand but if he knew anything about Umbrella, they'd be ready and waiting for him. With that in mind, he climbs the very useful hand rails that ran the length of the small space, and with his largest knife, wrenches the cover off of the escape hatch. When the elevator finally comes to a stop and the doors slide open, the six armed security find it empty.

Until they look up. The first one to do so gets a bullet between the eyes and Leon drops down into the small space. They're so stunned they start firing blindly and it works for him, an actual gun-kata gunfight in an enclosed space – a Leon Kennedy special. In a handful of moments there's six downed security and blood on the white walls. Leon tosses aside the gun he'd taken right from the hand of one and briefly looks down at them. These men probably had families at home, and the guilt of it settles in his stomach and is dismissed. If you wanted to work for scum like Umbrella, you could pay the price.

He steps over a body and into the lobby of the first of Umbrellas floors. They had three, the top three. Why? Leon didn't know. The fact that they'd come in to this building and taken the top spot had always gotten under his skin. Something about it had seemed off, now he knew it was because whoever the money players were within this new incarnation of Umbrella, they also helped fund the DSO – probably even the BSAA. A lot of people were getting played for complete and utter fools, that was for sure.

In the center of their lobby stood a marble pillar, on that pillar a screen with a map of the three floors. Very useful, Umbrella did enjoy their maps and their boasting, if they got a chance to show off their money, they usually took it. It was almost comforting to know as much as things changed, they stayed the same.

The laboratories were on their second floor, and on the top, board rooms. The Umbrella Corporate offices, and an unnamed private sector. Leon slips a new clip in his gun and as he does, the rumble of heavy booted footsteps lets him know he's not going to be alone for much longer. He draws in a deep breath, tucks behind the pillar and waits for that first demand for him to drop his weapons and step out.

He does step out. With a gun in each hand.

* * *

Ana wakes with a gasp to the most searing pain she's ever experienced. Her body felt like it was being consumed by flame, like fire was literally running through her veins. There was still a mask over her face but she screams in to it in terror and agony, straining against her restraints so hard they cut in to her skin and drew blood. She couldn't form a single coherent thought, there was nothing but pain. Relentless and awful.

"Try not to fight it," that same male voice from before says to her side. "It will only make it worse."

How could anything possibly be worse than this? She felt like there were claws sinking in to her brain, like something was trying to tear out her eyes from within and was running acid under her skin. Tears fall, her voice gives out. Somewhere along the line, it becomes too much. In too much agony to even return to the bliss of unconsciousness, its a little like it breaks her brain. She switches off, going completely still as the red hot torture claimed her. Who were these people? Why were they doing this to her?

She couldn't even remember her name.

"That's it. It's almost over." The disembodied voice soothes. "You're a miracle in the making, Mrs Kennedy."

…. Who?

* * *

Leon cracks a man's arm over his shoulder then sends a swift kick to his chest, knocking him back and into the central pillar. Three shots take out three more and he ducks to miss a swing and fires upward, getting his attacker under the chin. Its a nasty way to go, and he's sorry, but these people stood between him and his wife. That was a really dangerous position to put yourself in.

He dodges a shot with a shotgun and sidesteps, wrenching the gun from the last soldiers hand and using it as a baseball bat to smash him around the head with, when the mans down, Leon flips the weapon in his hand and fires one shot, its lights out for whoever that had been. He tosses the gun down with an angry growl and holsters his own, for a second he tucks his hands behind his head and lets out a yell of frustration. This wasn't who he was. Killing people wasn't who he was, he killed monsters. Monster Assassin. He killed infected. He killed defenders of bio terrorists and crazed tyrants. He didn't kill men that thought they were defending their country and didn't know they were being suckered in and lied to. Its a burden so heavy it threatens to stop this warpath in its tracks.

But it wasn't so simple. And his wife's terrified screams echo in his ears and drive him forward. These people stood between him and her, they simply reported to the wrong fucking company today, and that signed their death warrants.

"I'm sorry.." he mutters, getting his shit together. Leon breaks away from the scattered bodies and jogs toward the stairwell, weapon drawn again in case he was confronted with more. He enters with a sweep of his weapon both up and down, then swiftly makes his way to the next floor. Once there, the sprinklers finally come to a stop and the alarm quiets, it makes him pause. The lights were still flashing, an eerie periodic red flicker that could send you mad if you thought about it for too long. The floor was slick with water and his footsteps made a small splash no matter how carefully he attempted to move. The silence was just as deafening as the alarm had been. No more resistance, no security jump out at him, no SWAT teams waiting behind desks. He moves through on cautious feet but encounters nothing. Then, he's confronted by a long, brightly lit corridor.

"Well, that never means anything good.." he sighs. He recalls the map he'd seen downstairs and this was definitely the right way. Labs were through here. There was a door with a keypad at the end that could likely be easily bypassed with a strong blade and an IQ as high as his. Its all eerily familiar. He glances back at the dark, red flashing glow of the offices before this corridor, still expecting to see more shapes in the shadows. A sniper maybe, somebody coming to take him out. But there was nothing. The building evacuated, maybe they were regrouping. Maybe they were getting some special team ready to take him out.

He clicks his tongue in his mouth and returns his attention to the corridor, eyes scanning the glassy walls. There were panels that each had gaps between, in varying patterns. It was lasers, for sure. Why did everyone that wanted something guarding put it behind a laser trap? He supposed in a lot of cases the oldies were the goodies, so to speak. He holsters his guns and cracks his knuckles, then cracks his neck with a pop and shakes himself off. Steeling his jaw, he takes a deep breath and steps inside. The reaction is instant, doors shut behind him with a slam and the sound of the lasers firing up fills the narrow space.

"Here we are now, entertain us.." he quips, he always did like Nirvana.

The first sequence fires up and comes at him quickly, he spots its gap and with a dive rolls through it, the next one coming almost immediately from behind, he's lucky to even spot it and evades by flipping backwards right through its center. A breath and six come at him in a spider web formation, he drops down low and it skims over and beside him by a millimeter, he hears it singe his clothes and even burn the hairs on his arms. Back up, the next ones behind him and with a brief glance he runs forward, up the door, over, landing heavy on his feet in a crouched superhero pose.

"Eat shit, Catherine Zeta Jones.." he mutters. He needed to get at that keypad. He draws his knife and dashes forward, jamming it in to the side of the panel and levering it as he hears the hiss of the next light show.

Its right in front of him. He throws himself backwards, rolls through, turns and runs at the far door and with a push off from that for height, flips through the gap near the top of the formation. His heart was thundering. He races back to the panel, grabs the handle of the knife and wrenches. The tunnel was warming up its next sequence.

And then just like that, the laser sound powers down, the lights in the hallway dim. His thundering heart slows and he looks around, confused.

"Are you done playing with the lasers?" Ada's voice comes over a comms system. He almost laughs.

"I dunno, was some pretty good cardio."

"I can switch them back on." She suggests.

"No.. no I'm good." he wrenches his knife from the panel. "Don't suppose you have the code for this?"

The doors at the entrance of the tunnel slide open and Ada - in her leather and red blouse – enters holding a keycard. He gives her a gentle smile as she walks down toward him.

"I take it I owe the evacuation to you?" he asks as she reaches him.

"You can pay me back later." She says softly.

"If I make it through this." He sighs, moving aside to let her to the panel.

"Don't talk like that." She answers, swiping the card and entering a code.

"What's through here?" he asks.

"I'm not sure." She admits as the doors slide open. "I'm not Umbrellas favorite person."

"I don't understand, if you were my watcher.. guide.. whatever. And the Archangels belong to Umbrella.."

Ada shakes her head, stepping through with him in to a dimly lit, sterile smelling laboratory area. There were computers and medical looking appliances everywhere. Ada's immediately going through things.

"When the program was complete and they were waiting for you to grow in to your abilities, there were some pretty serious power struggles," she explains, "like I said before, there's the story of Umbrella that you know, the downfall, the viruses.. and then there's the people that worked for the genuine greater good." She skims through a wad of papers and drops them down. "Its always been that way, in everything. You have the ones that are there for themselves, for the power and the glory. And you have the ones that want to make a difference. Good and evil isn't black and white, its hundreds of shades of grey."

Leon stares at a bizarre diagram on a white board as he listens, these people were still working on some weird looking shit. He glances back to Ada. "So even within an evil company, there's good people."

"And vice versa." Ada peers in to a cold store. Making a face. There were vials of strange colored fluids inside and Leon arrives beside her, peering in as well.

"They never learn." He mutters.

"And they never will. As long as there's money and technology and countries to conquer." She tilts her head to look at him and for a moment they're a breath apart. Their eyes meeting.

He stands straight, moving on from that spot. "So you.. what? Who are you working for?"

"Myself." She answers simply, "My father vowed that you would always be watched over and taken care of. When he was murdered, the associates that still believed in his message banded together to continue the heart of the program. Umbrella might own you, might have stole his project out from under him, but we never stopped being a part of it. Its.. its been an alliance of sorts." She shrugs, "but a fragile one."

"And now you want to.. what? End the program?" He frowns, confused as to why she was here helping him.

"I believe you have the right to know what was done to you. I believe the world does. Adam Benford was on the cusp of coming clean and we would have backed him, we could have brought the truth to everyone and you.. maybe you all could have found some peace." Leon had never seen Ada look emotional about anything at all, it was a little strange. But it was also comforting to know that over all these years, he hadn't been wrong about her. His instinct to protect her had been right.

"You know what your father did was cruel, right?" He asks as they reach a door and carefully peer in to the next room.

"I know. That's why we wanted to put it right. We started seeing the damage done to all of you.. after Jill in Africa, the toll on her body. And Chris after he lost his men in Edonia thanks to that bitch Carla.." she rolls her eyes, "and you, your drinking, we were afraid you were going to drink yourself in to the grave for a while." She looks back at him as they sweep the room. "It's time. For all of it to come to light, and for all of you to find some peace."

Leon hesitates, reaching for her arm and gently grasping her elbow. Her black hair made her pale skin all the more stark and porcelain in the dim light. She really was beautiful, always had been.

"You didn't kill Redfields men, did you?"

"I did not." She answers quietly. "He was chasing a clone. A woman that wanted to frame me for – well, the end of the world. When you want to expose high level government conspiracies you can piss off some really crazy people." She says with a small laugh, "and if the man a woman loves loves you more? Then it can get really out of control."

"So that's what that was.. in China.." he murmurs. "Why you threw a grenade at me."

She laughs, "oh, Leon. You were so confused."

"Well I stepped in to save you! Fought my friend, vowed to protect you.. and you – she – tosses a flash grenade at me." He chuckles, bowing his head.

"You're one of the most loyal men I've ever known. Its a rare and endearing quality, Leon Kennedy. Never let go of it." She gently touches his cheek.

"You could have told me." He sighs.

"Well, that was then." Ada gestures for them to continue. They round a corner and find large containers filled with bubbling liquids and who knows what inside. They didn't have time for investigating really.

"Last question.." he says as they sweep the next room. "Why me?"

"Children were selected after blood tests revealed rare DNA traits and natural immunities. It was luck of the draw, timing, and..."

"No I mean.. why me?" He looks over to her.

She holds his gaze, confused for a moment, then it dawns on her what he's getting at. "Have you seen you?" she jokes.

It makes him chuckle despite the circumstances, and he presses the button on a door that spits an error back at him. Ada arrives at his side and swipes the keycard, entering another code, the light switches from red to green and the door slides, revealing a large open space and what looked like an operating theater in the middle of it surrounded by protective plastic. They move slowly toward it, hearing the steady beep beep of a monitor. But as Leon nears the plastic surrounded area, he realizes the beep isn't coming from there.

"Leon.." Ada says his name in a whisper. He turns his head toward her and there's nothing to prepare him for the sight he sees.

His wife was strapped to what looked like a T shaped table standing upright. Her wrists and ankles cuffed to it. She was dressed in a body suit that seemed like it was made from leather or some other kind of form fitting black material. She was completely unconscious.

"Oh baby.." he breathes, darting forward and instantly beginning to look for a way to break the cuffs and get her down. Ada quickly begins sifting through equipment spaced out on various trolleys, looking for something to undo the locks. While Leon checks on Ana. "Sweetheart, I'm here.." he says to her, touching the body suit. It felt cold, like they were keeping her chilled. His stomach was turning, "what'd they do?" he asks in a whisper. She doesn't respond, of course. Ada arrives with a key and they begin working the locks on the table, getting her ankles free first and then her wrists. Ada undoes the last one and she falls from the metal restraints in to Leon's arms. He catches her carefully, laying her down on the floor to fully check her over.

"She's freezing.." Ada frowns. From what she could tell the suit had some kind of cooling system built in to it.

"What'd they do to you?" Leon asks again, he could feel his anger rising as he strokes her cheek and tries to rouse her. "Ana sweetheart its me, I'm here. Wake up." He begins to run his hand over her, looking for a way to get this suit undone so he could check her properly. It's when his hand reaches her stomach that he freezes, feeling a sickness settle in inside and a cold grip his body too. Where she'd had a slight bump just this morning, now there was nothing.

He recoils, landing on his ass a foot away from her and staring like he'd just seen a ghost. As Ada asks him what's wrong, his hands come up to his mouth.

"Mr Kennedy, Ms Wong, it's nice of you to join us." A male voice comes over the PA. Leon scrambles to his feet and looks for the source. Ada's hand goes to her gun. "I see you've found your wife."

"What have you done to her?" Leon rages, "come out, you fucking coward! What have you done?!"

"So angry," the voice tuts, "and here I thought you had pledged to serve and protect your country. That is exactly what we have done here. You should be proud, Ana is a huge step in our research."

"I'm going to rip your throat out you son of a bitch. What did you do?" He snarls, fists clenched.

"By now I'm sure Ms Wong has informed you of your status in our project. As you may or may not be aware, a Mr Albert Wesker was also a part of the project, although he chose to enter himself into the program and became quite a disappointment. He had a son, I believe you know him. Jake Muller. Interesting boy, one we hope to bring in to the program soon. However we learned of his existence too late for him to be of much use to our research. Your wife.. however."

Leon bows his head, gritting his teeth and listening.

"Fifteen weeks is a perfect time for us to harvest.."

"FUCK YOU!" Leon yells the second that words said, drawing his gun as if there were an actual person to aim it at.

"You sick bastards," Ada snaps at the owner of the voice.

"Leon Kennedy we own you, we own your wife. And we own what you produce. It will be invaluable toward the next step in this program."

"Breeding enhanced soldiers I suppose? Has to be easier than taking children from under unsuspecting parents noses. You going to turn it in to a factory?" Ada was disgusted, and Leon was falling apart to her side. "You people will stop at nothing will you?"

"To protect our country? You are quite correct."

Behind them, Ana rises slowly to her feet.

"You all deserve to burn." Ada hisses.

"After you, my dear." The voice laughs.

Ana reaches out and grabs two handfuls of Ada's shirt, lifting her easily from her feet and throwing with such force against the cold metal wall, it knocks her unconscious and she falls to the floor with a heavy thud. Leon watches in horror as Ana slowly turns her attention to him with a twist of her head, like a snake tracking its prey.

Her eyes were black.


	20. Whatever I Am, You Made Me

**Authors Note:** This one was rough to write, warnings for sads.

* * *

 **I'm hoping that in time you can lay down**  
 **All this weight you've been carrying around and maybe one day**  
 **You'll find your way**  
 **To climb on up out of your grave**  
 **With the bits of you you managed to save**  
 **And for the last time**  
 **You say goodbye**

 **\- Brand New**

* * *

She moved with the fluid grace and precise poise of a professional ballet dancer, practically gliding from one spot to the next in an almost noiseless and entirely savage assault. Even kicking his ass, she was the most beautiful thing Leon had ever seen. She effortlessly brings him to his knees, then with a swift kick to his midsection he's thrown back in to the set up surgical equipment in the center of the room.

He was reeling. He had been since the moment she set those pitch black eyes on him. His heart had frozen over and some kind of dark, hopeless abyss had taken the place of his soul. She'd advanced upon him and he'd seen the move coming, throwing his arm up to block it but instead finding himself hit with an open palm strike to the chest that had knocked him off of his feet and down to his ass, stealing the air from him. She was impossibly strong. With Ada unconscious he'd scrambled to his feet only for her knee to strike him under his chin, there was blood in his mouth and she'd been relentless. A chop to the throat, a kick to the shoulder, a roundhouse blow to the side of his head and a knee to the gut. She grabbed his hair and the back of his tactical vest, lifted him and threw him like a child would throw a toy. He'd crashed through a set up of monitors and scalpel blades, little knives digging their marks in his skin.

He'd somehow gotten to his hands and knees, gasping for air and spitting blood on the cold ground. For a moment, he'd watched her watching him. Her mannerisms were that of a reptile or bird, a tilt of her head like she'd never seen a human before and was studying it. Her long hair framed her now icy pale skin and thin blue veins travelled the side of her face. Yet she still looked like an Angel. An Angel of death, perhaps – but an Angel none the less.

His own words echo in his ears as he spits another wad of blood and saliva to the floor. He said to her right at the start, if she got involved with him then this could happen. That there would be no happy endings in a relationship with Leon Kennedy – a man owned by a corrupt and lawless business, masquerading behind a veil of 'The Greater Good'. Some part of him had known – known that he could never escape. Known that he was so deep in that the chances of ever being able to just live his life as a normal man were slim to none. But she'd given him hope. For two years, he knew what it was to love and be loved, and to live something close to a normal life.

So, so close. And now it was gone.

Not at the hands of terrorists or tyrants, but at the hands of the people he'd trusted and fought for for years. Leon Kennedy, this is your life – only it was never really yours.

"Ana.." he rasps, "its me." He had to try.

She tilts her head again, like a Raven on a perch studying the land for its next meal. Her eyes flicking around the room, then back to him.

"Please, sweetheart.. try to remember."

He gets to one knee. His entire body ached, her strikes were like being hit with the force of a car travelling at 90. As he wobbles where he is, she slowly stalks toward him. The walk of a dancer, graceful and delicate, yet utterly deadly. Arriving in front of him, she looks down in to his eyes and he returns the gaze. Her fingertips brush along the line of his jaw and he feels a chill run up his spine, her skin was so cold.

"It's Leon, I know you're in there.." he says quietly, lifting his hand to lightly touch hers. When he does, she flinches like he'd burned her, and her inquisitive expression becomes a snarl. Her hand clamps around his jaw and she lifts him to his feet. The strength was absurd. His hands go to her wrist to try and free himself but it's useless, and the next thing he knows he's once again flung across the room. Hitting the wall, crashing to the floor, he clutches his shoulder. Pain searing through him.

He had to fight back or he was dead. That survival instinct still reared its head and when she returns to him and leans over to pick him up he swings a kick into the side of her head. It staggers her a fraction, and he sweeps her legs out from under her, knocking her to the floor. He moves quickly, straddling her and pressing his forearm over her throat, an attempt to steal her consciousness. It's an immediate failure as she somehow kicks her legs up and wraps her ankles around his neck, slamming him backward. He rolls through and as she gets up he charges forward, tackling her and driving her back in to a mess of equipment with a metallic clatter. They crash in to it trading blows, and hers hit far harder than any he throws. In fact striking her seemed to do nothing other than knock her slightly off balance.

She grabs his hair and smacks him face first into a table, and he ends up on his knees. An elegant kick to his midsection and we're where we began. He crashes through the equipment and collapses to the floor, exhausted, beaten and bloodied. "Ana.." he rasps as she grabs the back of his vest again, tossing him in to the center of the room. He rolls onto his back, spluttering blood from who knows what damage inside. His hand rests on his holstered gun – he could draw it, he could shoot her.

He couldn't shoot his wife. He'd rather die. And it looked like he was going to. She arrives at his side and dips down, pulling the gun free for him. She drops a foot on to his chest and pins him there. It was like having a piano dropped on you, the sheer force of his tiny wife's foot pressing him in to the tile ground was incredible and daunting. What had they done to her? What had they created? He grips her ankle, gritting his teeth as those cold, black eyes settle on him and he looks up at the barrel of his own gun. This was it.

"Pandora!" the voice of James Hoult fractures the moment and Leon's eyes flick to the now open doorway. The surge of rage he feels is overwhelming, and he struggles to get up and tear the man's face off. But she keeps him pinned to the floor with ease.

Wait a second.. what had he called her?

"My dear, you are magnificent," James fawns as he arrives beside her. She acknowledges him only with a slight tilt of her chin. Leon's gun holds steady over him, her foot remains on his chest. James tucks some of her hair back from her shoulder, looking proudly from Ana to Leon. "Isn't she a wonder?"

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Leon hisses.

"She is the future, Mr Kennedy. The next step in the Archangel program." James explains, sighing. "You, Redfield and Valentine are nearing the end of your usefulness, unfortunately the original program didn't do much for the curse of time. You still aged. And as we can see, you were all plagued by emotions. Something that should have been stamped out. Ms Wong's father had too much conscience for a man of science, it seems."

"You're insane." Leon hisses, the pressure on his chest was stealing his breath.

"Not insane, Mr Kennedy. Driven. The world has many brilliant minds toiling away searching for the winning hand in this game of dominance we all play. When you are threatened, you build your defences. By any means necessary. You and your kind were necessary. But you are somewhat outdated now. We've been researching improvements to the program, it would seem your little foray in to marriage and getting this one pregnant provided us the answer." James runs the back of his knuckle over Ana's cheek and Leon snarls.

"Don't fucking touch her."

"She is not your wife any more." James tells him. "We have to thank you also for your work with the Pandora Parasite. A magnificent creature, terrifying, powerful. A Queen as you've seen mutated hosts horribly. But her strength is unmatched."

Hoults smile turns Leon's stomach. "What did you do?"

"As I said, the next step. We found a way to bond the parasite to it's host without the mutation occurring – managing to retain human form therefore maintaining our ability to keep the project under wraps. But there was a terrible side effect of the body overheating. The natural immune system goes in to overdrive, trying to fight off the serum we administer to make her strong enough to host and contain the parasite queen nestled in her heart. She has to adjust, adapt. Humans were not built for this you see. Hence the cold suit, Pandora thrives in the cold, the body's natural heat triggers the mutations you've seen in the Queen's so far. It can all be suppressed." He looks proudly at Umbrellas creation. Ana stands like a poised and regal statue, her prey pinned beneath her foot. "And we're confident that with the addition of the strong DNA of your son, we will soon have the perfect soldier, with no need for even the cold suit."

Leon feels like he's already been shot in the heart, looking up at his wife's blacked out eyes. "Son?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" James adjusts his glasses and offers Leon another hollow smile.

As he tries to process this information, Leon stares at his wife. "Please, undo this. Undo it and let her go.. you can have me. Do it to me. She doesn't deserve this."

"It's already done, Mr Kennedy. There is no undoing it."

"They removed the parasite from Jill, please.."

"It's too late. She's too far gone. But you won't have to worry about it very much longer." James turns slightly, patting Ana on the shoulder. "You have reached the end of your service, Mr Kennedy. Your contract, as requested, is terminated."

With that James begins to walk away, "finish it, Pandora."

Leon's eyes flick from Hoult to Ana as she adjusts her grip on the gun and stares down at him like she'd never seen him before in her life.

"I love you." He whispers to her.

Nothing. Just an abyss of midnight black looking a hole straight through him.

He closes his eyes and the gunshot rings out, loud in this metal chamber of a room. He flinches, expecting pain, expecting nothingness. Expecting the end at long last, he almost welcomed it. But it doesn't come. Instead, there's a clatter of a sound as his gun hits the floor beside him, slipped from Ana's fingers. He opens his eyes to see the black mist fade from hers as she sways where she stands. "Ana?" he breathes. Then he notices the trickle of blood seeping from a wound in her chest, over her heart.

"Ana?!"

As she crumbles to the floor he scrambles to her side, pressing his hand over the wound to stop the bleeding and stroking her hair back from her pretty eyes. Those eyes that sparkled, that had made his world a better place for two years.

"Ana I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.." he chokes as that light in her fades. For a second he's sure he sees her, that she's right there looking back at him.

Then she's gone.

Ada lowers her gun, settling it in her lap and watching with the heaviest of hearts as Leon mourns his wife. She never thought she'd see the day she'd see that man broken, but here it was. She'd been unsure of what to do, until Hoult had made it clear that there was no bringing Ana back to who she was. She couldn't let Leon die like that, and he couldn't pull the trigger himself. So she had.

James sighs, standing by the door with his hand poised over the panel. "I told them to build body armour in to that suit," he tuts like someone in the office had misplaced a stapler, "expensive damn prototype wasted because people just don't listen." A roll of his eyes and he presses his hand to the panel, the doors sliding open. He takes one last look at his former employee crying over his average looking wife and shakes his head. Then walks straight in to the barrels of two assault rifles pointed right at him.

His hands instantly raise as Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine stare him down.

"Where do you think you're going, you wormy little shit?" Chris snarls.

"We know everything," Jill hisses.

"Now, hang on a second.." James protests as he's backed in to the room. "I can see you're upset."

"UPSET?" Chris barks, "you've used us like glove puppets for years and you think we're upset?"

"We're not upset," Jill laughs bitterly, "why would we be upset? Why don't we fuck with your DNA and you can see just how not upset we are." She jabs the barrel of the rifle in to the old man's chest.

"Now, the Archangel Project is a gift! It made you stronger, faster.. better soldiers."

"That you manipulated us in to being!" Chris snaps, "I wanted to be a fucking veterinarian."

"I just wanted to go to prom." Jill jabs him again.

"We steered you in the right direction, you've done great things! You've saved the world, you're heroes! Put the guns down, we'll address the press.." James pleads for his life.

"The same press you've told that Leon is a terrorist? The man that's served you people in blood, sweat and tears for over twenty years!" Chris challenges.

"That was just.. that's..." James fumbles over his words as he's backed up further and further.

"You're scum." Jill scowls.

"We're going to expose you, and everyone at the top of this so called 'program'." Chris promises.

"We have it all. Your connections to that psychopath Simmons, the conspiracy to take out Adam Benford, the Archangel Program.. stealing sick kids from under their parents noses to create your counter measure weapons?"

"Your Archangels are going to tear your little kingdom apart, and everybody in it."

James lifts his hands a little higher. "Be reasonable, we can work something out."

He takes another step back and hits a human wall.

"Tell me, who was the Archangel of Death?" Leon hisses against his ear, clamping his hand around James' forehead he lifts his other and in one smooth slice, cuts James' throat with his combat knife. His warm blood spills instantly, a splatter sound on the cold floor. Leon listens, the mans gurgles and splutters as he both drowned and bled out were not enough – not nearly enough punishment for stealing his light away from him. He releases his former employer and lets him drop to the floor clutching his throat. Then flips the knife in his hand to change the grip and sinks to one knee, burying that blade in his heart.

A heart for a heart. It still didn't feel like enough.

As Hoult and his plans bleed out at Leon's feet, he runs a tired hand through his hair and rises up again. His shoulders felt heavy – bruised and beaten. He was fairly sure a few ribs were broken and the taste of his own blood was strong in his mouth, he could feel the bubbling sensation in his lungs that told him fluid was gathering there, but he resists the urge to choke on it. Maybe she'd killed him after all, and maybe he was ready.

"Are you okay?" Chris asks his brother in arms gently as he gets to his feet. They'd seen Ana, her body lay a few feet from them, at peace now. If you could call it that. But Redfield had never seen the man in front of him look more defeated – a fighting fire gone from his eyes. Leon doesn't answer him, just gazes at his wife with the look of a man in more pain than Chris could recall ever seeing on someone still living. Jill moves behind him and places a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, brother," Chris adds quietly. Leon gives them a little nod, closing his eyes. Chris lifts his hand, his rifle dropped to his side, he pulls his comrade to him in a big-brotherly hug. He'd always felt like one to the younger man, for people without families – they had been family to each other. Leon rests his forehead on Chris' shoulder and behind him, Jill wraps him in a comforting embrace. The three of them had been through hell and back more times than they cared to count. They'd fought for each other, burned down horror after horror, survived. Little had they known they were united by more than just common cause, they really had been warriors. As Leon breaks between them, they keep him standing. Somehow, Chris knew it was the end.

* * *

Ada had vanished, for the time being Leon was glad of it. He knew where the gunshot came from, he knew she was bound to save his life in both duty and heart, but he wished she hadn't. He quietly reloads his magnum as Redfield talks with Rebecca Chambers a few feet away from him. Rebecca had everything, she'd ripped every file and document on Archangel and the plot to murder the President, sanctioned by his own Government. Apparently news channels were reporting that Leon was a terrorist, one that had been under cover for years, bitter for what happened in Raccoon City and how he perceived his country to have failed him. Every station reporting the same thing – James and his circle of goons had turned him in to the enemy, after everything.

They weren't going to let this stand, and Leon listens as Redfield and Valentine make their plans. They were going to release the information on to the internet, where it would spread like wildfire. They were going to clear Leon's name. They were going to expose every level of this corruption and bring it all down. America would have to face some cruel home truths, and the people would have to decide how they wanted to proceed.

Leon slides the clip back in to his gun and draws a deep, painful breath. Swiping a hand under his mouth as more of that blood bubbled up from somewhere inside, he refused to choke on it. He had one more thing to do.

"Burn this place to the ground," he rumbles as Jill asks him what they should do next. "Salvage whatever files and information you can, and destroy it."

"We found the explosives in the bag you left under the dumpster," Jill nods, "figured that might be your plan."

Leon nods, "somewhere in here they have my.. my son. They took him from her, planned to use his DNA to make their next batch of Super Soldiers. That can't happen. There can't be anything left. We all know there's always someone trying to carry on a goddamn legacy." He sniffs, his chest was burning. "It ends here."

"The charges are set, so we sweep the place.. and.."

"And you take what you can," Leon finishes.

Chris and Jill flick a look to one another and say nothing. Leon spits out another mouthful of blood and pushes away from the table he'd been leaning against, not looking at his wife's body as he walks past it, heading for the labs.

Between them, they sweep through Umbrella's files like a well oiled machine. Taking actual documents, filling up Flash drives. Leon noticed a lot of it had been left wide open, and despite everything, he quietly thanks Ada for looking out for him one last time. She'd entered passwords and codes, leaving it free for them to take what they needed to expose it all. He was a little surprised the building hadn't yet been stormed by the promised SWAT Teams, until Chris tells him Sherry Birkin had been put in charge of organizing operations on the ground – and Sherry now knew that she was also a part of the Archangel program, another unwitting, taken advantage of child.

When they have everything they can find, Leon pours flammable fluid from a marked container over everything. Its satisfying, it stinks to high heaven. But flicking that lighter he always carried and watching the flame felt good. He tosses it on to a computer desk and the flames erupt. Burning everything in its path, melting hard drives and destroying research, ending it all.

He places the last explosive device in the lab that held the experiments in jars, the test tubes full of whatever they'd been working on. Somewhere in here, the son he'd never know. He wasn't going to look for him though, there was no point. With that done, they return to the surgical suite where Ana lay, Leon places his guns down and kneels at her side, reaching a hand out and gently smoothing back her hair.

"We should go, Sherry can't hold them off forever." Chris says quietly, after giving Leon a minutes silence. A moment of respect for his fallen wife.

"Go." Leon murmurs.

"Leon.." Jill goes to try and change his mind, but Chris gently takes her hand.

"I'm done." He confirms to them. "I can't leave her here. And I can't put her in the ground. I just.. can't."

"But.." Tears well in Jill's eyes and she battles with herself to keep them down.

"I'm alright," he looks up to them, a kind of calm in his eyes. "Say goodbye to Sherry and Claire for me."

"We will." Chris nods tightly, clutching Jill's hand.

"And do me a favor.." Leon adds.

"What's that?" Jill swipes her finger under her eye.

"Get your shit together, will you? Don't waste any more time."

Chris and Jill both laugh, squeezing one another's hands.

Sherry's voice comes over Chris' radio, telling them they had to move.

They both kneel, taking turns to hug their former brother in arms. Leon couldn't remember the last time he heard Jill cry, and he wished she wouldn't. As the two of them leave him alone with his wife, they promise to clear his name.

It was a small comfort. Maybe he'd left the world a little better than when he found it.

When they're gone he spits more blood in to a rag and sits beside Ana, even if he did walk out of here, his body had had enough. Too many years, too much abuse, he was ready. He strokes his hand over her cheek and carefully brushes his fingers over the lids of her eyes, closing them. "I'm sorry I got you in to this." He says quietly, "but for what its worth, you made me happy."

He hears the footstep behind him, and the sound of a gun being readied.

"You were the best of them," Ada says quietly.

He shakes his head. Not looking at her. "It was never who I was, just what they made me." He takes his wife's hand, linking his fingers with hers.

Ada pulls the trigger.

She catches his body as it slumps, and carefully rests him against Ana. Crouching over them for a minute or two.

"Because I loved you, you idiot." She whispers, answering his 'why me?' question at last. She swipes a single tear away with her leather gloved hand and rises to her feet. Pulling out her phone she turns away from star crossed lovers and heads for the door.

"I need an extraction, now."

* * *

Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine jog from the building to the waiting crowd outside, yelling at everybody to get back, that the building was rigged to explode. Every reporter for now would report that Leon had blown the place up, that it was another – tragic terror attack this time committed by one of their own. But soon they'd know the truth.

"Where's Leon?" Sherry asks as Chris arrives by her side. He doesn't answer, just looks back at the building. "You were going to bring him out, where is he?"

Jill puts a hand on her shoulder and she looks between them, then at Jake who stood by her side.

"Chris where is he?!" She demands.

The boom of the explosive its deafening, the charges detonating at intervals through the building where they'd set them. Sherry screams out Leon's name, dashing forward only for Jake to catch her around the waist, keeping her from running over there. Jill turns away and Chris watches as the tower begins to crumble, his fists clenched. A perfect demolition.

"Rebecca," he lifts his phone to his ear as around him chaos erupts. "Release the files. To the internet, to every radio and news station. I have more. Clear his name."

"Is he.."

"Yes."

Silence.

 **TBC**


	21. Epilogue: Legacy

**Authors Note:** Thankyou for taking the journey with me.

* * *

 **I don't blame you for quitting**  
 **I know you really tried**  
 **If only you could hold on through the night**

 **I don't want to be lonely**  
 **I don't want to be scared**  
 **And all our friends are waiting there**

 **Until you're safe and sound**

 **There's beauty in release**  
 **There's no one left to please**  
 **But you and me**

 **\- Sheryl Crow**

* * *

Over the course of the next few months America was thrown in to a state of turmoil, as the leaked government files flooded the internet and news stations around the world. Revealing a level of unprecedented corruption. It sparked endless debates – the top of the list being human rights and morality. Where did you draw the line when it came to defending your country? Where did a single persons right to live as they chose get trumped by the system? Voices sprang up around the globe, protestors took to the streets. The current President – despite not having anything to do with the massive conspiracy or the Archangel Program, made the decision to stand down and let the country elect a new leader. One that it trusted, and one that Leon had trusted. She became the very first – and youngest - female President and at her Inauguration, Ashley Graham spoke highly of Leon Kennedy. Paying tribute to the man that at the start of this had been painted as the face of terror, but ended up the face of hope.

When the truth came out, he was declared a hero. A whistle-blower. The embodiment of self sacrifice for the greater good.

With the destruction of the DSO and the final demise of Umbrella, the BSAA rebuilt with the funding of President Graham and headed up by the people that had been victim to the Governments tampering. The remaining 'Archangels' became the country's first line of defense, and held complete control over the future of America's war against Bio Organic Weapons. It was a long, slow process. A change in the times, a tip in the balances of power.

Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine married in Las Vegas three months to the day of Leon's death. Surrounded by those that survived the ordeal with them, they retired from active field ops and instead moved to training the future of the BSAA. Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller became the organizations lead operatives, and Sherry went on every mission carrying Leon Kennedy's magnum, salvaged from the rubble of the President Benford Building. She had his name and his date of birth as well as the date of his death etched on to its side. She honored his memory with every assignment. The gun was the only thing they'd found of him.

They'd held a memorial ceremony for he and Ana, and they named the new BSAA USA Headquarters after him. Leon Kennedy would not be forgotten, by any of them. Not even Barry Burton who despite never even meeting him, used his name as an example whenever he stepped in to help train up new recruits. Claire Redfield became a security advisor to President Graham, and worked tirelessly to help others that had been effected by some of the more sinister government projects revealed in Leon's whistle-blowing campaign.

And finally, Leon's protegee - the Superhero named Dawson Cash, became the shining star of the operation. He even looked like Leon, so much so, Jill often did a double take whenever he moved in to a room. Leon's instincts about the kid had been right, and Dawson carried that honor on his shoulders with pride.

The war hadn't come to an end, but six months down the line, the future looked brighter than it had in a long time.

They gather on Ana's Birthday, as they had on Leon's. The six remaining Archangels, Jake Muller and Dawson Cash. At the lodge in the Rocky Mountains that Leon had always retreated to when he needed a break. The place he and Ana had gotten married. Sitting around a large table, they drink and tell stories of the two, sharing memories. Sharing laughter.

"That silly son of a bitch comes tearing out of the jungle waving his arms and yelling at us to run," Chris chuckles, running his thumb through the condensation on the side of his beer bottle, "he looked like the devil was on his tail. Convinced he'd just triggered this major detonation. He throws himself over this fallen tree. We're just standing there looking at him." They laugh, "we'd swept the area, there were no triggers, no bombs, nothing. It takes him about a minute before he realizes we're all just staring at him. He'd stepped on a fucking Pepsi can and thought it was a trigger." More laughter. "He gets up all... 'I knew that, I was just testing you'." Chris smirks. "Arrogant little shit could never admit he was wrong."

"He very rarely was, in his defense," Claire shrugs.

"That's very true." Chris nods, "to an annoying degree."

"I miss him," Rebecca sighs, sipping from her glass. The table falls silent, just nods shared between them as they think back to their friend.

"This place probably misses his bar tab too.." Jill winks.

"If he even paid it." Sherry giggles.

A silence falls around them, and eventually Chris stands up, lifting his glass. The others follow suit, glasses clinking together over the center of the table.

"To Leon and Ana."

He's echoed, and glasses are drained.

* * *

 **Somerset, England – Another Six months later**

He silences the growling engine of his Harley Davidson and pulls off the helmet, hanging it over the handlebar and reaching up to tug the tie from his long hair. It falls down around his leather jacket covered shoulders and he takes a moment, looking out at the sea beyond the cliff edge not far away. He'd pulled up at the gravel covered front of a traditional English pub. He enjoyed these places, and since returning from overseas after his official army discharge due to injury, he was ready to take a load off.

A year ago he'd been fighting someone else's war and set off a land mine, so they told him. He had very little memory of it, next to none if he was honest. The mine he'd triggered had left him with some incredible scars and a lot of amnesia. Now and then bits and pieces would return, but nothing ever solid. He didn't poke the beast too much, it was better just to start a new life. He'd bought a bike and traveled the length of the United Kingdom, seeing everything from Buckingham Palace to Stonehenge. Now he was on the coast, looking for a drink.

He swings his leg over the bike and sweeps his shoulder length muddy blonde hair aside, tucking sunglasses in to his jacket and going inside. He takes a seat at the bar after taking a quick look around the place, a few locals, not busy for the time of day.

"Just a second," a woman's voice calls out to him and he nods, settling himself in his seat and scanning the back shelves for what they had. Deciding it was a Jamesons Irish kind of day, he waits patiently.

"Hi!"

He looks up and is greeted with the prettiest pair of sparkling eyes he's ever seen, and a smile that for a moment takes his breath away.

"Uh, hi." He stammers.

"What can I get you?" She asks in a breezy tone.

He wants to say 'your number' but he holds it in somehow. "Jamesons, double.. and whatever you're having." He gives her a gentle smile in return. She bites her lip and blushes.

"That's very kind, I'm not allowed to drink until after my shift though." She reaches back for the bottle and gets him a glass, pouring it in front of him.

"Well save it for after," he hitches a shoulder.

"I will do that. Thankyou." She nods and gives him a little wink. Putting the bottle away she picks up a cloth and starts cleaning. He quietly takes a sip of his drink, watching her.

"I haven't seen you here before, passing through?" she asks when she catches his eye.

He shrugs, "not sure yet. Been on the road a while, seeing England."

"I can tell you're not from around here." She nods, "you sound.. American?"

He chuckles, "kinda. From all over. Army born and bred."

"Oh wow, so you're just here for a little while?"

"No.. they discharged me. Injury. Now I'm a leaf on the wind.." he waves his hand in a little drifting gesture.

"Yikes, nothing serious I hope?" She asks.

"Kinda. Land mine, look like I've been through a blender. Luckily my face remains in tact." He chuckles.

"That is some good fortune, its a handsome face," she grins, lifting a glass to polish it.

"What about you, you sound very British.." he says over the rim of his glass.

She nods. "Yep, London originally." She says in her best Queens English. "I'm not a huge fan of big cities though, lets just say there was some drama and I ran away to the coast."

"Nothing serious I hope?" He echoes her sentiment.

"Oh, fairly. But you know, life goes on. I don't like to dwell." She sweeps her long, mahogany hair to one side.

"I hear that." He lifts his glass to her, "here's to not dwelling."

She hesitates, then glances toward the back of the bar before pouring herself a shot. She knocks it back quickly and makes him laugh. "To not dwelling." She nods.

"So what's your name?" He asks as she puts the shot glass in the washer and pours him another in to his.

"Anna." She answers with a smile that lit up the room, "and you?"

"Leon.. but most people call me Leo." He replied.

She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, a gentle hand shake. "Well I'm glad you breezed in to my bar today, Leon. Leo. I'm a Leo!" she tells him with a giggle.

"Women and Astrology." He winks at her. She swats him with her dishcloth.

As she excuses herself to tend to patrons at the other end of the bar, Leon smiles to himself, putting his hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out his phone.

"You should definitely get her number.." another female voice takes him by surprise. He looks up to find a woman in a red blouse and leather leggings smiling at him. She had short black hair and lips as red as her top.

"Excuse me?"

"Her number. Ask.." she nudges him with her elbow and flashes him a smile, "trust me, I know women."

With that, she breezes away out of the bar leaving Leon a little bemused. He laughs to himself and looks back to his phone, then up as Anna arrives in front of him again.

"Can I get you anything else? We do food."

He considers this for a moment. "Can I get your number?" he asks.

She blushes crimson, her laugh was adorable. Then she reaches over, takes his phone and taps it in.

"I have a good feeling about you, Leon."

Outside, Ada leans against the wall near the door and listens to the exchange with a smile on her face. Lifting her own phone to her ear. "It's done. Clean Slate Protocol a success. Yes, both of them."

She hangs up and watches through the window as the two of them share a joke and Leon beckons Anna closer to whisper something in her ear that makes her laugh.

"Enjoy your life, Leon. You earned it." She says quietly.

She'd keep them secret and safe until her dying breath.

 **-End-**

* * *

 _For Liam.  
_ _I miss being the Ada to your Leon.  
_ _Sleep sweet, Angel._

Thanks for reading, finishing this story was hard. I'm going to miss these two. I do have rumblings of a sequel in my brain, but we'll see if theres any interest for one and if I feel like wrecking Leon's second chance at a life (trust me, in my head they have kids and a farm in 5 years time, I can happy ever after sometimes)

I have another RE story brewing. Watch this space. I can't leave em alone. Thanks so much for all the feedback, this story was a love project for me so knowing others loved it too is its own reward. If you have any suggestions or ideas you'd like to see, my PM inbox is always open. Sometimes a small idea sends me off in crazy directions.

And lastly, music is my muse. In case you wondered what tracks certain lyrics came from, below a list of the songs that inspired various chapters. Thanks again.. and thanks to Jack Daniels xx

Brand New - Lit Me Up

Brand New - Waste

Alter Bridge - I know it hurts

Snow Patrol - The Lightning Strike

Wolf Alice - Soapy Water

Massive Attack - Angel

Device - Through it all

Katy Perry - Who am I living for?

Tom Petty - Square One

Allison Moorer - A soft place to fall

In This Moment - Out of Hell

Korn - Coming Undone

The Phantoms - This is a War

Low Roar - I'll Keep Coming

Sheryl crow - Safe and Sound


End file.
